


Two to the Head

by marianhawkes



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: A Rag-Tag Bunch Of Gay Misfits Take On The Mojave Desert, Also Cute Relationship Dynamics With The Courier's Gang, Alternate Title: Courier Fights Own Ass In The Desert, Alternate Title: Gays Own The Desert Now, Canon-Typical Violence And Slight Canon Divergence, Courier Six Is An Angry Goofball Sex Worker With Bad Puns And Bad Plans, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, I've Been Writing And Rewriting This For Three Years Enjoy, Main Game Novelisation With The Canon Slow-Roasted For Juicy Bits, Sometimes There's Poetic Fury And High-Intensity Breakdowns, Usually It's All Dick Jokes And Hurt/Comfort And Silly People Doing Silly Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10597899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marianhawkes/pseuds/marianhawkes
Summary: Courier Six always knew her life would end the way it began - with a gunshot and a load of wide open desert. What she didn't expect was to get back up again - and that cheating death would be easiest part of the journey ahead. Left with nothing but a bullet scar and some hazy memories, she sets out to rough up the guy who put her in the ground and find out what part she really plays in the survival game she never meant to begin. The lights of New Vegas burn bright in the distance and one man holds the chip that could change the world. All she has to do is get it back. But business never runs smoothly in the Mojave, and Brianna O'Reilly might be part of something a hell of a lot bigger than the New Vegas Strip. War never changes, right?





	1. Back in the Saddle

_"My head keeps spinning, can't go to sleep I keep grinning, if this is just the beginning…”_

* * *

 She always knew her life would end the way it began - with a gunshot and a load of wide open desert. Those glowing lights burning through the darkness like a cancer, that whip-crack sound like the end of the world. When she felt her skull shatter, she knew there was no hope of wriggling her way out of this. Funny how it took a bullet in the face before she realised some things were bigger than a few choice words and a winning smile. The second shot was a sick joke - she’d been dying long before it rang out, falling back into the arms of the desert like she’d done so many times, only this time it would keep on holding tight. The sand rained down and the stars winked like they were sharing a joke, but the courier was watering the dirt with her blood and wondering if her mother would ever know she was gone.

She’d spent her whole life hurting just to stay alive, and here she was, dying, like it was the easiest thing a person could do. In the life’s true laughing fashion, her body held on just long enough for her to wonder if she’d ever done a damn thing worthwhile, anything that would make her bloody end a glory instead of just a stain in the sand. The cold night air sighed against her skin like a whispered goodbye. Her cracked lips parted as she tried to tell the world she wasn’t finished yet, but all she could say was _oh,_ and the Mojave swallowed her whole.

The only bright light was the one that glowed neon somewhere much too far away to help her.

* * *

 " _I’ve sunshine enough to spread! It’s just like the fella said! I couldn’t feel any better, or I’d be...!”_

Brianna O’Reilly had made it to hell, and the Devil was belting out a chorus of her favourite song. She writhed and squirmed on the busted mattress beneath her, pain pulsing through her head like she’d just been shot. Like she’d just been shot twice. Her mouth was as dry as the desert and her afterlife was spinning around her in a haze of colour and light, looking all too much like the aftershocks of a bad Jet trip. As her vision steadied, she discovered that the Devil was a kindly old man with a walrus moustache and a scruffy pair of blue jeans with a .22 pistol holstered at his thigh.

“Looks like I made it to Goodsprings after all,” she said, smiling like a girl who’d just cheated death twice.

“Well, I’ll be damned, looks like y’ sure did,” the stranger replied, giving an excitable hoot as he marvelled at her. “Welcome back to the land of the livin’, stranger. Looks like my sewin’ skills ain’t so bad after all.” He gave a hearty chuckle like old desert men usually did. “You’ve been takin’ up my spare bed for about five days now, whole town’s been waitin’ for y’ to do somethin’ interesting.”

“Well, I got shot. Guess I could step on a landmine or something, make it real exciting.”

“After the commotion you caused up on the hill, you’d have to do more than that to surprise me.”

"Yeah, about that... what the hell happened to me up there? Details aren’t exactly working for me right now. All I remember are the bullets in my head, 'cause I'm still feeling ‘em."

“Looks like you're wranglin' the same questions the entire town's been askin'. No one knows what happened up there, 'cept maybe Victor.”

“Victor?” She asked, wincing as the pounding in her head moved into horny brahmin territory. “Who’s that?”

“He's the one brought y' here in the first place. Stupid drawlin' moron's good for somethin', at least. Only thing I know about that night is the man who shot y' must be the most cock-eyed son of a gun in the Mojave Desert. Two tries and all he did was leave a nasty scar and rattle your brain ‘round a bit. Even still, another few minutes and you woulda been a goner for sure. One hell of a nasty injury."

"Feels like it."

Her memories were already starting to put themselves together, flashes of conversation and images too foggy to make sense of. She remembered the delivery, of course she did. But she couldn't picture the shooter's face, only the lights of New Vegas glowing in the distance and the glint of something silver beneath the moonlight. She remembered textures, patterns - tattoos, paisley, black and white chequers. was something in that, something important. He'd been wearing a chequered suit. Clean, fancy, must have cost a fortune. New Vegas boy, maybe. Either that or he'd killed one.

"So, onto the real issue here," she began, with a cautious prod at her bandages. "How bad's the scar gonna be?”

"It's hard to know for certain, but it ain't gonna be pretty. That bullet did all sorts of superficial damage, you'll probably be scarred right up to your eye socket on that side of your skull. Hope to God you haven't lost your sight there. Still, you're pretty damn lucky to be alive."

She flashed him a rueful smile. "Hard to feel lucky when you've still got a hole in your head."

“I’ll take your word on that.” The silence lingered for a few seconds before the doctor said, "Well, doesn't look like you'll be goin' anywhere for a while. How 'bout I stick the radio back on and we can see what you remember? Then I'll let y' get some rest for a couple more hours, you look like y' need it. And by the way, the name's Doc Mitchell. It's a damn fine pleasure to welcome y' to Goodsprings."

"Lovely to be here, Doc."

"I’ll bet it is," he chuckled, taking the chair from his desk and pulling it up by her bedside. "First question, then: do you remember your name?"

“You’re goddamn right I do. Brianna O’Reilly. You can call me Six.”

* * *

 "You don't understand, Doc. He was here again yesterday, and you know he isn't just asking anymore! It doesn't matter what we do, whether he stays in that gas station or we hand him over, Cobb's gonna gather up his little friends no matter what, and he's going to burn this place to the ground! Don't look at me like that. You know I can't just sit around here and wait for them to kill us all - and they _will_ kill us all!"

Brianna's eyelids flickered and the dream melted away. There’d been a pretty girl and a giant robot, something about bringing death to communists. Those were some good memories. A familiar drumming pain ate into her consciousness, accompanied by an unfamiliar voice.

"This is more than just Ringo, you know that."

"What, you think the NCR are gonna come over here and sort this mess out? It's their prisoners that are busting down our doors, Doc! You think they care about us?!"

She shifted into a sitting position to get a better look at the woman in the doorway, but her view was blocked by Doc Mitchell. Brianna saw a flash of blonde hair and nothing more as the doctor marched into his office, snapping back at the ranting stranger, "Unlike you, Miss Smiles, I'm dealin' with someone who's actually in need of assistance. Go tell your friend that my professional diagnosis is that he's a goddamn coward who needs t' clear outta this town before it's too late."

As the stranger followed him into the office, the anger seemed to melt right off her. "She's awake? Does she know what happened up there?"

"Ask her yourself," Brianna grumbled. "I'm dying, not deaf."

"Oh, sh- hi!" She chirped, finally moving into few. "I've been dying to meet you!"

“I, uh- what?” Brianna said, staring dumbly at her for a moment. The girl was cute, all warm desert colours and a blinding smile. Her laugh was a bubbling sound, like the fizzing of a fresh Nuka Cola when you pop open the lid. It was like she’d carried in a sweet summer breeze, until Brianna remembered she was still recovering from two bullets to the head and that near-death always brought on excessively romantic fantasies about scooping up pretty girls into her arms and carrying them off into the sunset.

"Still not feeling a hundred percent, huh? Not like I'm surprised or anything- I've heard all the stories about what happened on the hilltop. Yikes."

"Yikes doesn't even begin to cover it,” she replied, shaking herself. "What have you heard?"

"A load of crap, for the most part. Bethany thinks you're a murderous ex-raider who cheated a ton of caps out of some New Vegas hotshot, but Amanda's convinced you wound up being some Khan's tribal sacrifice. But whatever the story is, glad to see you pulled through." She extended a hand. "I'm Sunny, Sunny Smiles. Great to meet you."

She shook her hand. "Man, what a name. I'm Unit X7-92, runaway synth from the Commonwealth. Bastards from the Institute almost got me out there, but they don't know what's coming for 'em. I'm heading back there with an army of bullet-proof robots so I can take back what's rightfully mine: the entire city of Boston."

"Wow. The whole bar is gonna go crazy when I tell 'em that. I think I'll win Trudy's daily contest: teller of the most bullshit story gets a drink on the house."

"I'm offended. But, hey, my human name is Brianna O’Reilly. You can call me anytime.”

Sunny Smiles glanced over her shoulder in Doc Mitchell's direction. The old man was rustling through some medical supplies across the room, either completely deaf or pretending not to listen. "I might have to take you up on that sometime. Not much to do out here but shoot geckos and listen to Easy Pete tell the same damn story about the raiders who tried to dig up his dynamite." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe once you're up and moving, I could show you around a little? Not that there's anything interesting to see, but there's a nice view from the hilltop and-" She faltered, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline when she saw Brianna's expression. "Shit, sorry, maybe not the hilltop. Dinner, though. Dinner's good."

"Dinner's great," she agreed. "You can tell me all about those murderous convicts who want to burn this place to the ground."

Her excitement dimmed visibly. "You heard that, huh? Yeah, you've kinda missed a lot since you bit the bullet. You know the prison nearby, the NCRCF?"

"That labour camp near REPCONN? Heard they've been keeping ex-gang members in there."

"Well, you haven't heard this: they busted out. All of them. Turns out giving a bunch of dynamite to prisoners isn't such a good idea. Didn't take long before they butchered all the soldiers and turned against each other. They've been battling it out for territory ever since, all these different gangs with their super intimidating names," she scoffed. "You've got the Jackals and the Vipers, those sound alright. Over here, though, we get the Powder Gangers. How _stupid_ is that?" She trailed off for a moment, face screwed up with frustration. "Sure would be a lot funnier if they weren't about to kick down our doors and drag us all out screaming. If we're lucky."

"That bad, huh?"

Her expression was enough to tell her it was definitely that bad.

"So what's it gonna come down to? Can you fight 'em off?"

"We could, in theory. But I guess theory doesn't apply to this bunch of... spineless assholes," she added in a hushed voice, glancing once more over her shoulder at the doctor. Her voice raised only slightly as she continued, "I've been trying to round people up, get supplies. Tried to make some deals with a couple of arms merchants, but they just laughed in my face when I told them I couldn't pay upfront. We've got a merchant in town who could set us up, got plenty of guns and armour to spare, but if he can't see money in it, it's not happening."

"Maybe I could help. It sure would be a bummer if I got blown up right after getting shot in the head."

Sunny looked sceptical. "Can you even see yourself walking in the next few days?"

"Sure, sure. Robotic overlord, remember? What can't I do?"

Her eyes began to glimmer with mischief. "Alright, we can talk later. Good luck getting on your feet again."

"Good luck with your army of cattle ranchers."

Stepping back from Brianna's bedside, Sunny raised her voice back to its usual bubbly tone. "Alright, Doc, you win." Before he could reply, the girl had floated out of his office, face alight with triumph as she added, "For now."

After a few moments of Doc Mitchell staring blankly at the door with an expression of vague puzzlement on his face, he shook himself and turned to his patient.

"She's a strange one, that girl. Never asks anybody for help and when she does it's because she wants to turn the whole damn town into an army. That just a woman thing?"

"Forming armies and fighting convicts? Definitely. I do it all the time."

He grunted. "Well, you don't need to worry about all that. It's your health I'm most concerned about. How y' feelin'?"

She stared at him. "How am I feeling? Really?" He stayed silent, prompting her for an answer. "Like I've been shot."

"That's understandable. Your vision might go fuzzy every now and then, an' you can expect that headache to stick around a while."

"Do you think I could try standing up?"

"Suppose y' could try it. Dizziness is bound to be a problem, though."

"Well, I'm not getting any better like this, right?"

"Y' sure ain't. Alright, y' can try it," he decided, making his way over to her bedside. "But for the love of Christ, be careful."

He extended a wrinkled hand, but she brushed it aside. She could do this. With a tiny grunt of pain, she turned herself around and got her bare feet on the floor. Her vision pulsed and blurred as she shifted her weight onto both legs, muscles weak after days of immobility. When she finally lifted up from the bed, she grasped for the doctor's hand and let him keep her upright as her stomach lurched, dark spots dancing across her vision. But she straightened herself, wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a slow step forward.

"We'll I'll be damned!" The doctor hooted, guiding her across the room. "Not bad at all, girl. I'll get y' into the kitchen and I'll fix y' up something to eat. I'm sure you're damn near starved, ain't y'? I've got a couple of medical questionnaires you could fill out for me - they might seem like a crock of brahmin shit, but they're supposed to give me some idea of your mental health after all the trauma and whatnot. In the meantime, I'll find y' some hot water and some clothes to wear. Bastards up on the hill didn't leave a goddamn thing behind. A nice bath should help y' relax, though, might help you get those memories straightened out. How does that sound?"

"Perfect, Doc. Just perfect."

* * *

  **Statement One - "Conflict just ain't in my nature."**

Disagree.

**Statement Two - "I ain't given to relying on others for support."**

Somewhat agree.

**Statement Three - "I'm always fixin' to be the centre of attention."**

Strongly agree.

**Statement Four - "I charge in to deal with my problems head-on."**

Strongly agree.

**Statement Five - "I'm slow to embrace new ideas."**

This is stupid.

* * *

 "Ink blot tests? Really?"

"Come on, Six, take this seriously. I need to make sure that bullet didn't leave y' nuttier than squirrel shit."

"Alright, alright. That one looks like a mushroom cloud. This one looks like two bears high-fiving. That one looks like a very specific image from my childhood. I'm kidding, it looks like a vase. And the last one- what the hell? I'm too embarrassed to say what that looks like."

* * *

 If only lingerie and a fresh new diagnosis of PTSD were the worst of Brianna O'Reilly's problems.

The first thing she'd done after making it to the bathroom had been vomit violently into the toilet. She said a bitter goodbye to Doc Mitchell's mantis leg stew and flushed away the contents of her stomach, then took a moment to admire the startling cleanness of the room around her. There was no helping all that nuclear grime that marked the tiles, but the doctor had certainly put some effort into keeping the bathtub free of giant roaches. The mirror wasn't scratched or cracked, and there was actual toilet paper next to the sink. She almost wept with joy at the sight of it, and probably would have were it not for the startling realisation that she was in her underwear, and had been ever since she'd woken up. She'd barely even reacted to Doc Mitchell handing her a robe to cover herself with back in the kitchen, too dazed by everything that was going on to make any sense of his comments about needing to grab some spare clothes from Sunny. But when she looked down, she was greeted by a black half-corset and a very transparent pair of panties attached to her favourite thigh-high stockings. Sometimes the pros and cons of being a sex worker were the exact same. She groaned with embarrassment as she twisted the taps and ran her bath, almost ready to drown herself in it before she remembered she'd just survived two bullets to the head and had a killer to identify. Priorities.

As clean water gushed from the taps, Brianna found there was a small victory in not having to shove her panties down the plughole - the doctor even had his own plug, how rare was that? She even caught herself smiling a little before she glimpsed her reflection in the mirror and froze.

“Jesus Christ.”

She edged a little closer to get a better view, prodding at her bruises and wincing at the pain. Her face was a disaster. Her visible eye was rimmed by a dark half-moon, with ugly splotches of yellow and purple around it. Her chin was scuffed badly, only just beginning to heal beneath a couple of butterfly stitches. The rest of her face was scratched up in places, stinging at the slightest touch, but she knew none of that would compare to the mess behind the bandages. Still, there was some small relief in knowing that all the rest of it would heal in time. She'd lost a hell of a lot in the past few months, but nothing had stolen the arch of her eyebrows or the line of her jaw, nothing had swept away the short slope of her nose or the definition of her cheekbones. Her warm brown skin was still discoloured in places, her face still shiny with oil and sweat. Her dark hair was slick with grease at the roots, flat and tangled against her head.

She looked alive, and that was more than enough.

She made for the bath with a spring in her step, sticking a hesitant foot in to test the temperature before slowly easing in. Warmth shuddered through her aching legs and rolled up and down her back as the water sloshed and rose around her, from hips to waist to breasts to shoulders, and then she turned off the taps. She allowed herself a few minutes to lie back and soak, drifting off to the distant drone of the ceiling fan. But the peace didn't last long, as thoughts and memories threaded into her aching brain. A man in a chequered suit had shot her. That was concrete, that was fact, she needed that. But she needed more. She'd been carrying a package. Those two things had to be connected. What did she remember about the goddamn package?

_Remember your name. That’s the best place to start._

Courier Six. That was the name on the waiting list, that was who they'd wanted. She'd heard about the job on the streets of New Vegas, something about a very unusual, very high-paying delivery directly to Mr House. Six couriers, six deliveries, five useless objects and one valuable item disguised among them. When she discovered her name was on the waiting list, Brianna O'Reilly had laughed at the sky and left the city behind without a thought. She didn't have a cap to her name, but there were other things people wanted in that city, other things she could provide. She got herself a gun and headed down the long road in nothing but a pair of scavenged cargo pants and the underwear now lying on the floor, and she'd broken every grabbing hand that reached for her as she passed.

How had it come to all that? What had she done?

She was starting to piece things together now, starting to remember the night that had started it all. It had been her first time in Vegas. She'd gone with some other mercenaries she'd been travelling with for a couple weeks, plus a few members of the caravan company they'd been escorting. No one in the casinos recognised the sly-eyed girl with the scars and the heels, not until the end of her second night. She'd won big at the tables and made sure everybody in The Tops knew about it. Free drinks for anyone who'd show her a good time. She'd stumbled out of the casino dizzy with drink and buzzing with the attention, tripping over her own feet and singing to the sky. And then the attack. Even now, she wasn't sure who'd pulled her into that ally. There'd been a group of them, she remembered that much. She'd been shooting up Med-X like it was going out of style, mixing all sorts of weird chems with vodka and hoping for the best. She couldn't remember what they'd done to her, but she'd woken up aching and bruised, all her money gone. Her friends had disappeared and taken her supplies with them. She tried to get work, but no one would take her. So she found other ways to make a living. Nine long, hard months of making a living.

And then the bullet happened.

"All because of a platinum poker chip," she said, remembering that wicked flash of silver. But what the hell was a poker chip worth? Platinum might have been worth something two hundred years ago, but these days people tended to shoot their loved ones over more useful things, like something to eat or wipe their ass with. And that still didn't explain the payout for the delivery. Five thousand caps for one piece of worthless metal? There was something more to this, there had to be. The shooting had been planned, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered to bury her, wouldn't have taken the time to tie her up and shoot her execution-style. Her stomach lurched at the memory. She remembered the presence of others on the hilltop - leather jackets, spiked hair, tribal tattoos. Not raiders. Were the Great Khans involved in this? Regardless of the state of their tribe, that would mean some serious business. She couldn't know for certain, but the brightly coloured mohawks and that hazy logo on their outfits just reeked of Red Rock Canyon.

She shut her eyes and blew out a sigh. She supposed the chip could be tech, some kind of digital key or a holotape. But at this point, none of that mattered one goddamn bit. She didn't know who the shooter was, she didn't know where he was, and without a cap to call her own, she couldn't do a damn thing about it even if she had his coordinates marked down. She had to figure this out. Five thousand caps was everything. It was her ticket back home. She could go back to Zion, go back to the tribals and live her life there without another thought in her head about chequered suits and poker chips. Maybe she could visit the Commonwealth, or even find her way to the wreckage of New York, a place she'd always wondered about. The Mojave had made her, but it hadn't given her anywhere to go. There was nothing left for her in this place, thanks to that chequered-suited scumbag Benny.

"Benny."

She whispered his name like a prayer, like the name alone would guide her to him. It writhed in her mind like a snake as she hurried out of the bath - Benny, Benny - splashing water on the tiles as she went. It didn't take long to dry off and collect the pile of clothes Doc Mitchell had left outside for her. Benny, Benny, stupid goddamn name - the dark blue tank and black combat trousers were a couple sizes too small but she barely noticed, pulling on the socks and boots and leaving in such a hurry that she left her lace stockings behind on the floor.

"Doc!" She called, finding him in the living room with a cup of coffee. "I gotta go. I remembered.”

"Anythin' about the guy who-?"

"A man named Benny. Chequered suit, uh, gelled hair. Cigarette, he had a cigarette with this fancy lighter, must be a New Vegas guy. Definitely a New Vegas guy."

"Wish I could help y' out there, but I never saw his face. We don't see many from the north 'round here, would've been talk o' the town if he'd showed up in the bar."

"Then where do I find Victor?"

"Y' could try the little red shack just past the schoolhouse. Just take it easy, alright? I don't want you-"

The front door swung shut and she was gone.


	2. Ghost Town Gunfight

_ "Good afternoon, my beautiful friends in the wasteland. Hope all you survivalists, sinners and scavengers are doing well this fine day. This is Mr New Vegas, and I'm headin' down the same endless highway as the rest of you lost souls. Whether you're on the road to redemption or revenge, my voice is here to carry you through every step of your journey. I know it's hard out there. I know it's hard to see the light - and I'm not talking about the lights on the horizon, there's plenty of neon and starlight out there to guide you along. I'm talking about the hopeful kind of light that some of us just can't stop chasing. Sometimes it's hard to keep that light in your head, but I'm about to deliver it right to your ears with a story about survival - the rawest kind, a story about bullets, skulls, and a shallow grave. Stay tuned, listeners. You're about to hear something truly amazing, a miracle from the small town of Goodsprings..." _

* * *

 

There was something safe about the town of Goodsprings, though she supposed it was less like a town and more like a few shoddy buildings dotted around a wide stretch of nowhere. Straw-hatted farmers tended clusters of razorgrain and xander root while bighorners grazed in bone-dry pastures. It was comforting to see the different ways its settlers had claimed their own patch of the desert; despite all the bleak and barren textures of the farmland, the quaint little houses were surprisingly well-maintained. A few settlers had strung lights from the corners of their rooftops to the nearby trees, and some had campfires built up on their front lawns, with a few mismatched chairs pulled up around them. The buildings further in the distance boasted flickering neon signs, one of them blazing out _Prospector’s Saloon_. The place must have been a tacky tourist attraction back in its day, a disappointing little pit-stop for road-trippers heading to brighter places. Brianna made her way past the desolate schoolhouse and towards Victor's shack, deciding to head to the saloon later if this conversation didn’t uncover enough of what she was after.

When she found the tiny wooden hut, she wasn't alone. A pristine New Vegas Securitron was standing right outside it. And it was smiling at her.

"Hi," she began, moving warily towards the whirring machine. That grinning cartoon cowboy face was creepy enough to make her hand edge towards the gun she didn't have. "I'm looking for Victor. Is he in here?"

"Victor?" The robot replied in a tinny cowboy drawl. "Why, he's right here, partner! At your service!"

"Wait - you're the one who dug me out of that grave?"

"I sure am, buckaroo! And might I say you're looking fit as a fiddle!"

"Yeah, uh, you don't look too bad yourself.” Brianna took a moment to collect herself. She supposed the doctor had never exactly specified whether her saviour was human. Might be even better this way - from her experience, most robots didn’t have ulterior motives. “Look, I need you to tell me what you saw that night. What happened up on the hilltop?"

"You mean with you and Fancy Pants? Well, I got there just in the nick o' time. The smartly dressed fella who shot y’, he was runnin' around with these shifty-lookin' bandits in leather. Before I even knew what was what, Fancy Pants clean shot y' in the head!"

"You’re kidding."

"He sure did, partner! I wheeled on over there right and quick, but the rest of 'em had already skedaddled. Seemed to be in a real hurry."

"Do you know where they were going? Did they ever stop by here, say anythin’ to you?"

"Well, it's funny you should ask, partner. See, I saw 'im skulking around here a little while before you nearly kicked the bucket. Asking questions, I'd reckon. Probably lookin' to see where you were, where you were goin' and all that. 'Course, you'd never popped your head in before, so he didn't hear much."

He must have figured out the route she'd been taking. To be asking questions so close to Primm, that was no coincidence. Had he gone to the Mojave Express building there, skulking around for information? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She'd been staying in Primm on the night of the attack, but a gunshot had woken her some time around two in the morning. She knew how important the courier job was, of course she'd gotten spooked. Of course she'd taken off in the dead of night and made her way to the quiet town of Goodsprings, where nobody would look for a New Vegas escort on the run. It wasn't just luck on Benny's part that he'd found her halfway there. He'd been in Primm all along, he'd followed her out of the city. The gunshot that startled her, had that been his bullet? Had he been targeting another of the six couriers, picking them off one by one? The thought was enough to make her feel sick.

"And that's all you can tell me? Nothing else?"

"Sorry, partner. I was too worried about gettin' you outta that hole in the ground to go about askin' questions."

"No problem, Victor. I think I'll head to Primm and do some asking of my own. And thanks, by the way. It's nice to be alive."

"My pleasure, buckaroo."

As the robot wheeled away, Brianna realised that tracking down her would-be killer was easier said than done for a woman who was laid up in a dead-end town with no caps, no gun, and a hole in her head. She huffed out a sigh as the Prospector's Saloon grew closer and uglier with every step. If Sunny Smiles had been serious about her offer, maybe she'd provide a financial incentive if she really needed Brianna's help with the Powder Gangers. Besides, she was itching for a fight to kick her back into action again, and making a plan with a pretty girl only added to that appeal.

When she stepped onto the porch of the old saloon, she was stopped by a stranger's voice. An old man in denim overalls was rocking slowly back and forth on a creaking rocking chair, his dark skin thoroughly wrinkled and weather-beaten, his face shaded by a tattered straw hat.

"Some nasty business up on that hill."

"Sure was," she agreed, pushing open the door to the Prospector's Saloon.

It was like stepping into an old Spaghetti Western. When she walked into the bar, all conversations fell silent. The place was near empty aside from a few sour-faced old men playing a card game and a handful of farmhands gaping at her. Sunny sat at the bar, accompanied by a large grey mutt who lay at the foot of her stool. The barmaid behind the counter was glaring at her with a stony expression, and the atmosphere was tense as Brianna took another few steps inside. The locals picked up their conversations again,  this time in hushed voices and with more than a few nervous glances in her direction. The barmaid resumed her practised act of trying to clean up a dirty shot glass with a dirtier dishrag.

Sunny Smiles looked like the only person in the bar who was happy to have her here. "Look at you! All up and running around already," she praised. "And nice outfit. I swear I've seen it on someone before."

"Hey there, beautiful stranger," she said, taking a seat beside her. "You still down for dinner? And, uh, sorry about the doc raiding your wardrobe. I know how much you’d love to see me in my underwear again, but it couldn’t be helped.”

"Honestly, I'm just happy those cargo pants actually fit you. Makes me feel a little taller." She turned to the barmaid. "Trudy, could you get us a couple of brahmin steaks and sarsaparilla? Max still owes me for clearing out that gecko nest, put it all on him."

Trudy shot a glare in their direction as Brianna and Sunny took their seats opposite each other at the nearest booth, accompanied by the panting dog at Sunny's heels. When they were out of the barmaid's earshot, her expression turned serious. Sunny leaned over the table, her voice just loud enough to hear above the surrounding chatter as she asked, "Look, were you really serious about helping me out with the Powder Gangers?"

"Maybe. But a pile of caps at the end of it all would make my mind up for certain."

Sunny pursed her lips, foot tapping restlessly on the floor as she considered the offer. "I don't have much money to give, but I'm sure the town would help you out with some free supplies if you help me pull this off. The Powder Gangers will have plenty of dynamite worth looting, you can sell that for a good price, right? And Ringo mentioned something about having a couple hundred caps on him from his contract with the Crimson Caravan Company. Save his life and he'll be happy to part with some of it, I'm sure."

"Sounds great. Now how about some information on the guy we're doing this for? What do the Power Gangers want with him?"

"Look, Ringo's a harmless guy, he really is. But when they tried to take his caravan, he managed to do them some serious damage, killed a couple of their ringleaders before he finally got away. I guess they took that as a personal offence." There was a bitter edge to her voice as she continued, "And taking the caravan, killing all the mercenaries and murdering his little brother in the fight just wasn't enough, because now they want to kill him too, and use him as their reason to butcher everybody in the town. I feel awful for the guy, I really do. He's holed up in the gas station near the doc's house, been there for over a week. I’ve been feedin’ him like a stray animal. He’s scared out of his mind.”

"Can't say I blame him, but why's he sticking around? If this is Power Ganger territory, why not get out as fast as possible?"

"Because it's not that easy anymore. The Powder Gangers would make it hard enough for him, since a bunch of 'em made camps across what used to be the easiest roads to go down. These days you can't get anywhere without getting stuck in the crossfire between those assholes and any of the other raider gangs. Trying to head north these days is suicide, especially on your own."

"And the NCR haven't tried to stop any of that?" She asked, as Trudy set their meals in front of them.

"Oh, they tried. For about a day. Heard they got their asses kicked so hard that they ran off to Boulder City and never came back. From what I've heard, there Jackals flooding the caravan passes and Vipers setting up in every gas station and watering hole around, practically coming out of the woodwork. It's a war zone. That's why I stay put."

"I bet you'd love to get out there, though, right?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," she replied wistfully. "Don't know where I'd go, and I can't really say anywhere's better than here. This place has been good to me. There are kind people here, good people, that's more than you can say about anywhere else these days. But I feel like I could be doing so much more than just clearing out gecko nests and messing around with old weapons. Fighting off the Powder Gangers, that could be a good start."

"Then what are we waiting around for? What do you need me to do?"

"To start off with? We need to get other people in the town on board, but persuasion's not my strong suit. I can round up some of my friends and some of their friends, get Trudy to hold a town meeting, but we still need Chet to cough up some of his supplies - guns, ammo, maybe some armour. Easy Pete, the old guy outside, he's got his dynamite buried in the town somewhere and Doc Mitchell's got some spare medical supplies in case things go bad. All we need is to convince them that fighting the Powder Ganger's is the right thing to do. I'm sure I could convince the doc and everything with a little more trying, but trust me, I'm gonna have my hands full."

"Store clerk, old guy, doctor. Consider it done."

* * *

 

After less than thirty seconds of being in Goodsprings' Rootin' Tootin' Boy-Howdy Cowboy General Tradin' Outpost, Brianna O'Reilly fancied another bullet in the head. The tacky neon sign outside had ushered her into the dark and dingy old building, a glorified shack full of busted trinkets and more guns than she could count. Assault rifles were scattered across dusty tables, pistols were wedged into those spinning pre-war magazine racks, and old fruit boxes were filled to the brim with frag grenades. The place was so dim it seemed to repel every source of light, swallowing the glow of the afternoon sun. Even the three dusty lamps dotted about the miserable place weren't enough to burn a hole through the bleakness. It had taken mere seconds for Brianna to decide that the pre-war asshole who'd had the nerve to call this place a store deserved a kick in the teeth. 

But there was nothing in this town more hopeless than the store owner himself. Chet Haywood's scraping nasally voice challenged the frequency of a dying bloatfly, and for the past five minutes he'd droned on and on about scopes and mufflers and extended magazines. When she finally got a word in edgeways and asked to borrow some guns, the guy had been too busy admiring his newly painted revolver to even hear what she was saying. That was when she'd reached across the counter, twisted the gun out of his grip and tossed it over her shoulder. Then he started to listen.

"We're talking about a two thousand cap investment here," he argued, angrily pulling out another gun out from behind the counter while Brianna glowered. He looked down the barrel with the same fiendish delight as a man peering through the keyhole of a women's changing room. "Even if I lend you these babies for a discount, I'm gonna need to do a full damage inspection afterwards, and paying for repairs isn't cheap."

"You think that's gonna matter when the Powder Gangers get here and we're all defenceless? You think they're gonna let you run away with your arms full of caps before they burn this place to the ground? Come on, asshole, there's gotta be more to your life than that. What about the people here? What about the rest of your life?"

"Look, I don't know if it's really gonna come down to all that-"

She grabbed the nearest pistol from the magazine rack and aimed it at his face.

"Actually, it just did come down to all that. See this?" She replied, wondering if the gun was even loaded. "This is your life at risk, right now, right this second. This is how quickly it happens, and this is how quickly it's _gonna_ happen if you let the Powder Gangers have their way. I don't know what idiot raised you, pal, but I'm about to make up for their horrible failure and maybe, just maybe, convince you to do the first decent thing you've ever done in your life." She sat down on the counter in front of him, her aim unwavering as the store clerk gaped. "Listen to me. Look at me, look at my face. Look at me, Chet. Now don't you ever, ever start kidding yourself like that again. Don't you ever tell yourself that your life won't come down to these last few awful seconds, because it will, and it is, and this is how quickly everything falls on its ass. Look at me. I want you tell me something. How many people live in this town?"

"F- fifty maybe?" He stammered. "I- I dunno, it's a new town, m- maybe sixty, sixty-five-"

"Good." She slid down from the counter and edged towards him. "I want sixty-five fully loaded weapons and ammo belts delivered next door in half an hour."

"Y- yes, yes! Okay! J- just- just get away from me! I'll do it, I swear!"

"Good," she smiled. "Glad we could work that out."

* * *

 

"Your _dynamite_ ," she stressed, stretching out every word as slowly as she could. " _Buried_ under the _town_."

Easy Pete shook his head, rocking slowly on his chair outside the saloon. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Blow yourself up. Blow your neighbour up."

"I know how to use an explosive. Hell, I'm probably an expert."

"Blow your friends up. Not gonna tell ya."

"An expert, dammit!"

"Blow your momma up, even."

"But you just light 'em and throw!"

"Nope. Blow the whole town up. Can't do it."

"Fine," she sighed. "Just fine."

* * *

 

"Doc, I said I needed medical supplies, not a present."

"Shush your mouth and let me find the damn thing," the doctor grumbled, rummaging through one of the crates in his office. When she'd explained the situation with the Powder Gangers, the old man looked a little disappointed, but not overly surprised. He'd promised to offer medical help almost immediately, but also insisted on giving Brianna 'a little something' for helping out Sunny and the town. She thought it was strange that he was the one thanking her - after all, she had spent the past five days bleeding all over his spare bed, and here she was receiving a present after that awful stick-figure drawing she gave him of her shooting a mini nuke at a scribbly figure in a chequered suit. He'd even pinned it on the fridge. But despite her confusion, she allowed the doctor to search his junk crate and present the gift.

"Wow," was the only response she could manage for a moment. "Is that a Pip-Boy? A working one?"

"Sure is," the doctor said, his chest puffing out a little with pride. "Was my wife's, back before she passed away. Used to be Vault Dwellers, the pair of us. But that was a long time ago, and my wandering days are past me now. Thought it might do y' some good in your travels. Need me to show y' how it works?"

She shook her head, locking the gadget onto her wrist and adjusting to the weight and bulk. "My friend had one of these. She was a Vault Dweller too." As she wiped the dust off the screen, it became clear that the device hadn't seen use in over a decade, as streams upon streams of unintelligible code rushed down the screen. She could almost sympathise with the ancient old thing. She too knew what it was like to shake yourself back from the dead. "Hey, does this one do that thing with the health bars and stuff?"

As it turned out, it did do the thing with the health bars and stuff, and a hell of a lot more. The gadget came with a handy to-do list, a customisable map that she could add her own locations to - she plotted Goodsprings over her current coordinates - an inventory list, a section for health and vitals, a selection of radio stations and a slot for holotapes. She managed to change the colour of the text to a pretty shade of amber, test out a couple of the radio frequencies and fill in her to-do list with 1) Kill the Powder Gangers and 2) Track down the son of a bitch who shot me. Once she was done tinkering, she found her way to a section labelled S.P.E.C.I.A.L and had a glance at the statistics it showed.

**S** : 7  **P** : 6  **E** : 9  **C** : 6  **I** : 6  **A** : 7  **L** : 10

"Seems accurate enough, huh?" The doctor asked, as Brianna returned the Pip-Boy to its default screen. "And everythin' looks to be workin' right."

"Why the hell is my charisma at  _ six _ ? I mean, uh, thanks, doc.”

"Not a problem, Six. But onto the real business here: the Powder Gangers. I can't fight worth a damn with my bum leg, but I'll get some supplies set out in case anyone needs patchin' up. It's the best I can do on short notice. You sure you're ready to go out and face those bastards?"

“I’d be more worried about whether they’re ready to face us.”

The doctor sighed. “How ‘bout you just tell me this’ll be a breeze and I’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

“This’ll be a breeze,” she assured him. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

* * *

 

But the only breeze-like aspect about it all was the cool wind that whispered by them as they headed down the empty road towards the NCRCF. About thirty locals had signed up to the unofficial Goodsprings militia, while the rest of them stayed home and crossed their fingers. Still, even with lower numbers than they’d anticipated, the group was looking a little like an army and a hell of a lot like hope, armed to the teeth with weapons from Chet’s stock. Sunny and Ringo were chatting quietly while the snipers jogged ahead, moving into position on the low hill overlooking the prison. Brianna had talked briefly with the rattled Ringo Hendricks as they were leaving Goodsprings, interested in getting to know the stranger who had started this mess in the first place. For a grieving caravaneer who'd spent the past week holed up in a filthy gas station, he seemed to be holding up well. He was a little too stiff and polite for her liking, and too polished for someone in his line of employment, but she felt bad for him nonetheless. Losing people on the road was tough, she knew that. If nothing else, she admired his anger and his will to put an end to the bastards who murdered his brother and threatened the town that had taken him in. Plus, he owed her big money for putting their attack plan together, so she was happy to stay on his sweet side until they reached the hill.

The prison's jagged silhouette stood black and hunched in the near distance, illuminated only by the silvery spotlights that swept across the sand. Their snipers, crouched on the hilltop, lined up their shots while the rest of the party held their breath at the hill's base, taking some time to double-check their weapons and psyche up for the approaching fight. Brianna herself had learned a few things about sniping from a brief escapade with an NCR soldier, but didn't trust herself to hit a sleeping bighorner from thirty feet away, so she sat at the hill's base and sharpened the edge of her newly acquired fire axe with a nearby stone. Sunny sat at her side, peering through a pair of binoculars and mumbling a "Nice shot!" when the first bullet rang out. When their lookouts spotted activity in the courtyard after the second watchtower was taken care of, Brianna calmly gave the order to shoot them down as well. It took only a couple of minutes to secure the yard, but it felt like an eternity of bated-breath silence before the deed was done.

"Here's how this is gonna work," Brianna reported to the surrounding villagers. "You guys are gonna hang back here while me, Sunny, and Ringo get ourselves inside. We'll clear out the entryway to make it safe for the rest of you to head in. Once you're in, half of you are gonna head to the courtyard and take down the Power Gangers in the barracks; the courtyard should still be clear by then. The rest of you, make for the building on the western wing, get inside, make a mess. Make sure at least three of you in each group is carrying one of Doc Mitchell's supply bags in case you need patched up. You'll know it's safe when we open the gate. Got it?" There was a murmur of confirmation from the party. "Alright, sweet. See you on the other side, strangers."

And with that, she, Sunny and Ringo made their way towards the prison. Brianna cleared her throat as they reached the intercom, held down the button, and said in a slightly confused and high-pitched voice, "Uh, hello? Is there anybody in here?"

A crackle of the speakers. A gruff male voice answered, "Fuck off or get shot. Your choice."

"Please, we need your help. We lost all our supplies on the road, me and my friends don't have anywhere to go. We just need somewhere to stay, it's getting dark."

"This isn't the place for you, girl. Go find somewhere else."

"We'll do anything," she pleaded, "anything you want. I- I think I'd know how I could make it up to you. You know what I mean, right?"

A crackle of the speakers. Some encouraging voices in the background.

"Alright, we'll open the gate, you can meet us inside. Don't do anything stupid."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Brianna replied, as the gate raised up with a sharp creak. Axe swinging at her side, she strolled up the entryway and opened the door to the lobby. The place had been thrown into chaos during the convict outbreak; random trash had been strewn about the floor and the place reeked of piss and stale beer. She saw the man from the intercom advancing towards her, his self-satisfied smile as white and wide as a deathclaw's. Brianna buried her axe in his skull. A slack-jawed expression froze on the convict's face, blood trickling from his head as his legs buckled beneath him. She kicked the body away, shook off some brain matter from the axe, and faced the rest of the Powder Gangers. They rushed to their feet in a flurry of motion, angered shouts filling up the silence as Sunny readied her shotgun and gave Brianna a nod of confirmation. Together, they charged.

It all happened within seconds. A shotgun blast ripped open a Powder Ganger's shoulder and sent him down screaming while Brianna made for the nearest convict and neatly opened his throat. When his friend rushed in a few seconds too late, she smashed in his skull with the blunt end of her axe. Three more shots sounded from Sunny's shotgun, accompanied by Ringo's revolver and the chatter of enemy pistols. Brianna quickly dodged the incoming swipe of a baseball bat, returning the swing with all her strength and letting her axe dig deep into the Powder Ganger's side. When another came at her with a pistol blazing, she overturned the nearest table and leaped behind it, ducking down to reach for the gun at her hip. Just as she was strapping her axe against her leg, the Powder Ganger grabbed a fistful of her hair and clamped down, yanking her to her feet. 

The axe clattered to the floor. The pistol was pushed against her stomach. She drove her knee into the convict's crotch and used her free hand to wrench the gun away. Not hard enough, not far enough - he jerked his finger on the trigger and the bullet pierced her side. She cried out at the burst of pain, pressing her gun against the convict's head and pulling the trigger. Breathless, Brianna held a hand against the bleeding wound, firing into the back of another target who was lunging in Sunny's direction. Sunny drove the butt of her gun into a Powder Ganger's throat before blasting a hole through his face. Though every muscle in her body pleaded for her to stop, Brianna grabbed her final opponent and slammed his head against the nearest table, then put a couple of bullets in his back for good measure.

When the fight was over, she cursed through gritted teeth and leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. The wound wasn't deep, but it hurt like a nightstalker bite. Sunny made her way towards her, already beginning to fuss. "Son of a mother-bitch-fuck," was all Brianna was capable of replying as Sunny patched her up with some of Doc Mitchell's supplies. Once she had a stimpak jammed into her neck, she became coherent enough to ask Ringo, "Was one of those assholes the guy who threatened you? Cobb, right?" She headed slowly across the room to retrieve her axe, but caught a glimpse of Sunny and Ringo's matching looks of triumph as she passed.

"The guy whose head I blew off," Ringo replied, with a hint of satisfaction, "that was Joe Cobb."

She glanced over at the grotesque heap of flesh that was Cobb's skull. It looked like someone had shredded up a brahmin steak and danced the Charleston all over it.

"Not bad, pretty boy. We gonna bring the others in now?"

"I'll get the gate," Sunny offered. "Are you cool with hanging out here and looting some bodies while Ringo and I run off with the others and do a little more-?" She mimed the action of loading up and firing a shotgun, complete with appropriate sound effects. 

"When you get shot in the head, any other bullet hole is a little disappointing. I'll help you clear out the courtyard, then maybe I'll take it easy for a while."

"If you insist," Sunny said. To Brianna's surprise, she even started to laugh. "Man, this is going great."

* * *

The courtyard was in chaos. The Powder Gangers had gathered there in full force, their outrage fuelled by the death of their leader. Dynamite was tossed in every direction as the convicts screamed threats at the sky and died, and died, as the Goodsprings militia charged in. The night was alive with gunfire, curses and screams rising from both sides as they clashed. Brianna O'Reilly was caught in the middle of it all, riddling a nearby convict with bullets and laughing as he toppled back in a frenzied dance. The convict heading towards her was sent to the ground by someone else's bullet, the upper half of his head reduced to a spray of blood. She swapped her pistol for her axe and swung it across a convict's throat, pulling it back and hacking once more to prevent him from firing the gun in his trembling grip. Blood dribbled from his mouth and nose as he stumbled back, clawing at his neck before dropping out of sight. For a moment, she heard the anguished cries ripping past his ruined throat before the sound was swallowed by fireworks and war.

It didn't take long for corpses to litter the courtyard, mostly fallen Powder Gangers, though she saw a few blood-soaked overalls among the blue prison uniforms. She twirled and sliced and hacked as more convicts spilled out from the barracks, almost enough to overwhelm them. Almost. Explosions rattled the earth, thrumming in Brianna's ears as she drove her axe into a Powder Ganger's thigh, swinging once more in a deadly downwards arc and slicing through his shoulder with the ease of a hot knife running through a week-old carcass. Her arms ached, her fresh wounds were sharp and stinging, and a blistering agony was trampling through her left-side brain like a herd of bighorners. But when she saw Sunny Smiles wrestling with a jammed shotgun, the pain was gone and the fight fizzled away into a silent blur around her.

Brianna raced through the crossfire, boots slamming on the ground, heart thumping in her throat - the only sounds she could hear, except for Sunny's angered cry as she butted away oncoming attackers with her useless weapon. When she felt a sharp grip on her arm, Brianna spun on her heels and swung her axe. The Powder Ganger ducked beneath the blow, swinging hard with his tire iron and piercing her hip with its sharp metal points. She swung upwards, carving through his jaw and decimating the lower half of his face. She tossed the dying man aside and pushed on past the dwindling mob. Defenceless, Sunny was barely holding her own against the two Power Gangers who had noticed her busted weapon. Brianna lunged for the first, driving the blunt side of her axe into the back of his skull while he was busy wrenching the gun from Sunny's grip. His skull collapsed beneath the blow, legs buckling beneath him as she knocked him down with a final swing. Before she could pull her weapon out from the dead convict's arm, the next was on her. A sudden force knocked her off her feet and the ground rushed up to meet her. She heard a loud  _ thwack  _ as her head slammed against the concrete. Her teeth rattled; the sight of the darkening sky above her was swallowed up by the blood-splattered face of an armed convict. His features were twisted with a burning hatred as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and smashed her head down once more..

"Time to die, you fuck!" His breath was hot against her face. "Nighty-fucking-night!"

Brianna kicked and thrashed and screamed while he pounded at her face with his bare fists. She used her legs to flip herself on top of him, taking the opportunity to land a few hits before he rolled her over again. Desperate, she tore at his throat with her teeth and used her nails to gouge at his eyes, but her struggling only seemed to spur his anger on; he pulled at her hair, drove an elbow into her chest and stomach, then finally, as Brianna spat her own blood into his eyes, drew a stick of dynamite from his belt. Her veins turned to ice. He used his legs to keep her on the ground, lighting up the explosive and driving the blunt end of the dynamite into her bandages. A burst of white-hot agony dragged a scream from her throat as she tore at the convict's face, screaming for Sunny's help. He drove the dynamite further and further against her skull, teasing at the stitches beneath and tearing through the healing tissue. She caught a glimpse of Sunny fighting off a final Powder Ganger, then turning to see Brianna pinned down, helpless beneath the weight of the man who was about to kill her.

Seconds passed. She clawed and shrieked like a feral cat, desperate to be free, desperate for a few more seconds to fight, to live, and then the weight was dragged off her and she could breathe again. She scrambled back, the world spinning as she wiped blood from her eyes and looked up to see the fight unfold. For a moment, she could make out only a tangle of limbs as Sunny wrestled the Powder Ganger back. They had seconds left before the dynamite blew, and the fight was drawing dangerously close; looking around, Brianna could see the Goodsprings villagers beginning to regroup as they finished off the few remaining Powder Gangers, close enough to the fizzling dynamite so that there would surely be casualties. Before she could do a thing to stop it, Sunny tore the explosive from the convict's hand. Brave, bold, compassionate Sunny Smiles - of course she knew the cost of letting it explode with her allies so nearby. Of course she knew the cost of taking it into her own hands and throwing it into the empty distance, of course she knew the risk. Brianna wished she could shut her eyes, but they were fixed on Sunny's hands - the explosive had just left them, only just parted from flesh, and suddenly time was still, and she could see nothing more than the inches between the dynamite and the tips of Sunny's fingers. She wished her voice could be heard over the gunfire, she wished she could tell Sunny to move away. She wished she could tell her how brave she was, but that she was too goddamn late.

The world exploded into dust and fire. Seconds passed; hot, ringing seconds as Brianna struggled to her feet and rushed to Sunny's aid. She fumbled with her pistol and aimed it at the skull of the Powder Ganger trying to flee, didn't stop shooting until the weapon gave an empty click. When the smoke cleared, Sunny Smiles was screaming on the ground, face twisted in agony, her hand a wreckage too late to be saved. An ugly sob of defeat drowned out the commotion around her as the fighters of Goodsprings rushed to help her. The scene unfolded slowly, achingly slow, as medical kits were searched through and bandages produced, then gauze and alcohol and nothing that would work, then Med-X, then a knife so Sunny's sobbing friends could watch as a steely-eyed cattle rancher made a clean cut of Sunny Smiles' busted hand, spraying blood across her pallid face. The stranger wrapped up the bleeding wound in whiskey-soaked bandages while Sunny's cries faltered and fell silent. Brianna could only watch blankly, too stunned to fully react, as Sunny was pulled to her feet.

Time didn't move again until their eyes met, and Sunny's lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak, but she didn't need to. Brianna moved to her aid, supporting her on one side while her friend, whoever she was, kept her steady on the other. While some villagers helped the injured and looted corpses, and some cheered and drank to the death of the Powder Gangers, Brianna headed inside with her friend, mumbling empty reassurances as she went. "It's not that bad, right? Two hands are overrated. I know a guy in Washington who can hook you up with something robotic. It'll be sweet, trust me."

And then, “Please be alright.”

* * *

 

Uneasy tension lingered throughout the rest of the night, as Sunny was taken back to Doc Mitchell's for a treatment more thorough than any panicked cattle rancher could provide. Brianna spent some time in the Prospector's Saloon for a few celebratory drinks, then hauled it back to the NCRCF with some tipsy farmers to scavenge what she could from the now empty prison. The sight of the corpse-littered camp at night with its flickering fluorescent lights, blood-splattered walls and mangled bodies was unnerving, to say the least. While the scavengers accompanying her were busy throwing up in a corner, Brianna managed to fill a backpack full of dynamite, guns, ammo and canned food. 

When she made it back to Goodsprings, she returned to Doc Mitchell's home and got patched up while Sunny rested in the doctor’s office. There wasn't much she could do for her battered face except have her bandages replaced and hold an ice-cold sarsaparilla against her swelling eye. That didn't help much with the sobbing while the doctor removed the bullet from her flesh, wondering how she was still standing after all that time in the bar. After that, it was back to the saloon for more music and more drinks, then she allowed an incredibly grateful Ringo Hendricks to take her back to the gas station so they could enjoy some 'alone time' while the rest of Goodsprings headed home. Both drunk and giddy, he didn't seem to mind her busted up face when he was easing her armour off, and she paid no mind towards the bag of bottle caps he gave her as promised payment, not until the next morning when she took it all and left him behind. This was her last day in Goodsprings, and there was a long road ahead.

Her first trip was to Chet's Rootin' Tootin' Boy-Howdy General Tradin' Outpost, where she sold off everything she'd scavenged from the prison and bought herself some decent armour pieces, a replacement for her lost fire axe, a new pistol and a battered old shotgun. She spent a few more caps on ammo and grabbed something to eat at the saloon, where a few friendly locals warned her about a recent radscorpion infestation beyond Graveyard Hill, and informed her that the road through Quarry Junction was, to her disappointment, still crawling with deathclaws. That only made her even more certain of her decision to head to Primm - it wasn't exactly a safe route out of Goodsprings, but at least she could avoid having her head swiped off her shoulders. When she headed to Doc Mitchell's office for the last time, with the intention of saying a quick goodbye and buying a few stimpaks for the road, she was surprised to find Sunny greeting her at the door, followed by her panting dog.

"Holy shit," were the first words out of Brianna's mouth. She tried, but couldn't keep her eyes off the remnants of Sunny's right arm. It had been severed a few inches above her wrist, the stump wrapped up in a clean bandage to protect the stitches beneath. In sharp contrast to her traumatic injury, Sunny's face was bright and beaming like always, despite the redness around her eyes from crying the night before. She looked surprisingly beautiful even with her bruised face, and her tattoos were fully on display. On her right arm was a sleeve of brightly coloured flowers, and on her left was an intricate portrait of a cazador, rich in colour and surrounded by flowers. It was a while before she shook herself and stopped staring. "Wow, you- you look really good, after all that. Are you holding up okay?"

She didn't look too certain. "Yeah, I guess I'm doing alright. I mean, it'll take awhile to get used to all this," she gave her injured arm a half-hearted wave, "but I think I'll be okay. Doc's been helping me with stuff, like not knocking things over every time I try to reach for something with a hand that isn't there anymore." Despite her distant expression, she gave a non-committal shrug and perked up again. "Don't worry about me, though. I'll figure something out." She seemed to perk up a little as they headed inside. “God, Ringo’s face when he blasted Joe Cobb, that was insane. How was the party, by the way?”

“Craziest night of my life,” she lied, eyeing up the unusual amount of canned goods, scorched teddy bears and Nuka Cola bottles dotted around the doctor’s office. “Never thought cattle ranchers could go so damn hard.”

"Damn right,” she laughed, before noticing Brianna’s confusion at the random objects lying around. “Oh, that’s kind of a thing here. Someone gets busted up bad, we all come together and drop a few things by." Sunny paused to eye up Brianna's new backpack and armour. "Looks like you're going somewhere."

"Nah, I had a change of heart. Thought I'd settle down here and tend bighorners for the rest of my days."

"Hey, it's an easy way to not get shot in the head. But I really can't picture you in overalls and a straw hat."

"I could say the same about you. Not to be a dick or anything, but aren't you gonna have a hard time sticking around here? Fending off geckos, doing farm work, that's not gonna be easy anymore."

"Like I said, don't worry about it. I'll manage. I can always help out Trudy in the bar until I- well, maybe not until I figure out the basics first. I guess I have to start relearning everything. Making food, for a start. Don't know how I'm gonna reload a pistol on my own. How do you fancy sticking around and teaching me how you do all that stuff with your axe?" She only looked half-serious, but it was a nice thought. "Where are you headed now, anyway?"

"Back to Primm, where I picked up the delivery. It's my first step to getting some answers, figuring everything out."

"A solo quest for answers, that sounds pretty fun. Unless company is more your style."

"Sunny Smiles, you sound like you're implying something."

"Me? No, no, of course not! Just implying that there's a plucky wasteland-adapted girl somewhere in the world who might like the sound of a new adventure. A girl who might have a hard time leaving her dog and her friends behind but who also would love to go out there and live again despite a near life-threatening injury."

Brianna stared at her for a moment. "You know I have no idea what I'm doing, right? Seriously, I have the most pathetic excuse for a plan of what the hell to do next, I'm going after this guy because I really need the caps for that delivery since being a New Vegas escort pays like ass, and I'm the most danger-prone goddamn mess you'll ever meet in your life," she rambled. "I mean, if I had a cap for every time I've been shot in the head... I'd have two caps, but it's weird that it happened twice, right? Not to mention being short-tempered, restless, prone to nervous breakdowns - hold on, let me think. Self-destructive tendencies, I like to sleep around a lot and don't shower enough and-"

"Woah there, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to learn all that. If you say yes, I mean."

"For real? What if I told you I liked killing people a little too much?"

"As long as you're good at it. From what I've seen you only target bad guys anyway."

"What if I was prone to cannibalism?" Sunny looked horrified for a moment. "I mean, I'm not, but one time I ate, like, a day-old rat. It was gross. You don’t need that in your life."

"Brianna, I'd love to come with you. If you'll have me.”

"Well, shit. Welcome aboard, then. It's gonna be a hell of a ride.”


	3. Selling Out

_ “Good morning, all you sinners and saints. Are your ears ringing with gunshots today? Is it sweet music that guides you along your path, pre-war swing, traveller songs? Do you talk to yourself from early morning ‘til nightfall? I can’t know your story, listeners. All I know is that my voice guides your path, dishing up a little comfort for those lonely desert days. But I know there’s a town out there today with nothing much to listen to. That’s right, folks. Nipton’s gone quiet. Nothing making music except the crackling of fire sending that smoke trail up in the air. What happened? God, what happened?” _

* * *

 

Primm was a city built for leaving. It was busted neon lights and tacky western-themed casinos that begged you to blow your bottlecaps on cheap whiskey and slot machines until you couldn’t remember your name. It was high walls and iron fences that said  _ stay the hell out  _ or  _ enjoy the rest of your life here  _ depending on which side of them you stood. People called it a pocket-sized New Vegas, the closest damn thing to The Strip that the NCR would ever get their hands on. At a glance, though, it just looked like someone had taken a fistful of pre-war rubble, thrown it against a patch of dirt and stuck a roller-coaster on top. Riding that ugly pre-war death trap had been a small dream of hers once, but it hadn’t seen life in over two centuries. Nowadays, the only thing to do here was smoke your lungs to dust, piss away your caps, and come see the infamous death car and the weapon that was used to- 

“Let’s not stick around long,” Brianna advised. “This place makes my skin itch.”

The uneasy feeling in her stomach grew stronger when she noticed the small outpost outside the front gates. The NCR had been spreading like a cancer across the desert for months now, always another useless splatter of tents that looked more like a nasty infection than a show of power. Had they finally gotten their hands on this place? No, Brianna thought, it didn’t look right. It certainly didn’t feel right. When they headed closer to the entrance, the nondescript watchman who’d been eyeing them finally moved in.

“Hey, you two better move along. Town’s off-limits until the situation in there is under control.”

“You mean the mysterious shooting situation? We’re here to deal with that. I know, right?”

“What? No, we’re trying to - look, the town’s been overrun by convicts. Don’t know how many of ‘em are still in there, since the whole town’s been shooting the hell out of each other the past couple of days, but we were ordered to keep civilians out. For your own safety. Move along, please.”

“Wow. You guys have been tripping over yourselves trying to get this place and you held onto it for thirty seconds before turning it into a combat ring. Have you been taking bets to see who comes out alive? My money wouldn’t be on any of you.”

“Why aren’t you in there helping those people?” Sunny asked. “They busted out of  _ your  _ prisons.”

“We planned on moving in, but there was gunfire coming from both sides, we didn’t want to- look, Primm was ready for a fight, we weren’t. Our runners are out of action, it’s been days without a steady amount of supplies. But it’s military business, civilians. What’s your business in Primm anyway?”

“I want you to take a good look at my face and ask me that question again,” Brianna said, pointing at the shaved mass of hair on the side of her face that gave way to a wreck of mangled flesh and one long, jagged scar from where the Goodsprings doctor had sewed her back together.

“Yeah, nasty scar and all, but I can’t let you in unless I have a good reason for my superior. Seriously. Enlighten me.”

“Fine. I need into that convict-infested hell city because it’s thirty-eight miles to New Vegas, we’ve got three boxes of InstaMash and a bag full of dynamite and I’m airing out a bullet scar that looks like someone grated the ass end of a brahmin onto a pile of nightstalker crap. And I need to start up one hell of a shitshow with this guy in a chequered suit who shot me twice over a stupid piece of platinum that I need pretty badly so I can stop being a New Vegas escort for a while and blah-blah-blah, some miscellaneous personal reasons, an urgent need to punch the shit out of someone. Pretty please?”

“We’ll give you ten caps and half a snack cake,” offered Sunny, who didn’t even have a snack cake. “It’s pretty urgent. You’ll thank us someday. Write you a postcard from New Vegas, maybe? Made out to Lieutenant Lifesaver. Promise.”

The soldier glanced back at the tents, where some of his fellow soldiers were having a smoke, sweating in their armour and probably wishing for a nuclear winter. Brianna pulled a face that she hoped looked more sympathetic than strained. Lieutenant Lifesaver gave in. “Alright, you can go ahead in. I’ll tell my superior you’re a courier with the Mojave Express, that way we’d have to let you through.”

Brianna looked at him for a moment. “Yeah. That works.”

The streets were as dead as the convicts strewn about them. It was clear there’d been a gunfight, and that the NCR had turned their heads and done an unconvincing job of pretending they hadn’t left the citizens of Primm to fend for themselves. The smell of gunpowder clung to the air like the sweat on Brianna’s neck. Her skin crawled as they passed the Mojave Express building, which would have looked much the same as last time were it not for the spray paint over the window - NCR GO HOME. She didn’t think much of the body out front, not at first. And then Sunny’s hand brushed against Brianna’s for just a second, and she didn’t need to be told to stop and look.

His death had nothing to do with the convicts. With his pale skin and plaid shirt, he might have been some easy-living town kid before he took up the courier job. This corpse had been a nobody just like her, except only one of them had survived the gunshot that ripped this stranger’s left-side brain into shreds. An ugly purple bruise spread like a stain across his ruined eye socket and most of his IQ was sprayed across the wall he lay against. The corpse’s jaw hung slack and his eyes were still half-open, the vacant look of a rudely awakened dreamer and not a kid who’d been shot in the head about five days ago, by a man with the worst aim in the Mojave. 

“That son-of a-bitch,” she spat. “Didn’t even take the stupid chess piece.” The useless platinum pawn was lying just off the path, like Benny had tossed it as soon as he realised it was worthless. Brianna was feeling almost grateful that at least he’d had the decency to bury her, even if it had been a half-assed job. It was all too easy imagining herself slumped against the building that had been her beacon, her blood streaming through the cracks in the tiles, fingers grasping for purchase on a platinum chip too far out of reach. 

“You alright, Brianna?” Sunny asked, glancing back at the corpse as they left it behind. 

“Hey, I’m alive,” she replied. “That’s alright enough for me. For now.”

* * *

 

They’d taken two steps into the Vikki & Vance casino before seven bullets punched through the door behind them - way too many to count as warning shots and more to come if they didn’t act fast. She and Sunny thrust their hands into the air and scurried back, taking in the sea of steely-eyed locals all on their feet, glancing at each other like they were waiting on a signal to shoot. Seconds ticked by. Brianna couldn’t decide which gun barrel to stare down. The chorus of Ritchie Valens’  _ La Bamba  _ played from a radio neither of them could see. Her heart drummed in her ears as Primm Slim stomped around the famous death car, loaded up a public appeasement oration and promptly began to recalibrate. All she could do was keep her arms in the air and hope she wouldn’t die on the sticky beer-stained floor of the third worst casino in Nevada.

“Jesus Christ!” A familiar voice exclaimed, as Johnson Nash pushed through his trigger-happy neighbours and made for the newcomers. “Put your guns back in your damn pants, this ain’t a convict. As if shootin’ some holes in the wallpaper was gonna scare one away anyhow.”

The two women breathed matching sighs of relief and lowered their arms. The locals returned to their business, shifting back towards card  games and cigarettes. The smell of smoke and booze hung low in the air and slot machines coughed and whirred around them. It was good to know the town’s drinkers and gamblers hadn’t been too inconvenienced by the convict outbreak. Some things never really changed. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Nash said, looking Brianna up and down. “Wasn’t sure if it was me or Mr New Vegas who’d gone crazy. That was some ordeal up on the hilltop, huh? Nice to see you’re still kickin’, Six.”

“Good to see you too, Nash. How’s Ruby been keepin’?”

“Same as ever, don’t you worry. She’ll be cookin’ up those radscorp’ casseroles ‘til the next apocalypse, convicts be damned.” She felt his eyes linger on her scar. “But I’m sure y’ain’t here to talk about my wife. I don’t know if I can help y’ much, Six. All that talk about what happened up there on Graveyard Hill - hell, if I’d known that was comin’, I wouldn’t’ve had a damn thing to do with that job.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second, Nash,” she said, smiling ruefully. “How about a drink before we get into things? I’ll take a beer for me and my friend as an apology for giving me that goddamn package. This headache is gonna be the death of me.”

They followed the elderly man to the back of the casino, past the bullet-ridden car and wary locals who didn’t look overly pleased about the newcomers. But then, they never really did. The back room boasted of a jukebox, bar table and a hell of a lot less company, along with the radio that had been singing out La Bamba and now, to Brianna’s irritation, was playing Johnny Guitar for probably the eighteenth time today already. For a moment, she almost didn’t notice the Eyebot floating behind the bar as Johnson Nash tossed them both a beer.

“That’s the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen,” Brianna said, at the same time Sunny asked “Who is  _ that?” _

“Who’s - what?” Nash looked at them for a moment, then glanced at the robot. “Oh, y’ mean ED-E? Couple o’ traders picked him up on the road, busted into scrap metal. My wife had him fixed up, thought we could sell him for a decent price, but ever since those damn convicts took the roads, nobody’s stopped in to buy as much as a hot meal. You interested in takin’ him?”

The two looked at each other.

“Hey, uh, Brianna, I know we only just met,” Sunny said, “but I’m ready for us to be parents.”

“Can our kid shoot lasers like the ones out in Washington?” Brianna asked Johnson.

“If his circuits ain’t too fried up, I’ll bet he can.”

“Sold,” Sunny beamed. “ED-E, you fancy a new home?”

The robot beeped cheerfully.

“Oh my God, that’s adorable,” she gushed. “We’ll make sure he gets loads of exercise and nutrition and-”

“Alright, alright, he’s yours. Anythin’ I can do to make up for that hilltop disaster.”

“Yeah, back to that,” Brianna said, taking a long drink. “How about you tell me everything you know about that mess so I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“You’re trackin’ down the bastard who shot y’? Jesus, Six, what I can tell you is probably about a quarter of the nastiness you’ll find out where you’re goin’. It was a strange job, that one. Six couriers and some big money to deliver a chess piece, a fuzzy dice, a poker chip, a keyring, a playin' card, and a bottle cap, all made of platinum. But I suppose the Platinum Chip was the only one worth anythin’ important. It was special somehow. Somethin’ strange about it, somethin’ wrong.”

“Do you know what that might be?” Sunny pressed. 

“I wish I did. Might be a hell of a lot more useful to you if I had a clue about that thing. But that’s not the only odd thing that happened. We had two couriers called Six workin' for us at a time. Your name had a big question mark at the end. Hadn't see you in nearly a year, thought you'd kicked it somewhere in the desert. We were gonna scrub your name off until a very strange thing happened. See, the other Courier Six came down here to take the job. Weird guy, always wore this mask. There he is, all set to take the Platinum Chip until he sees Brianna O'Reilly's name next to his. Asks me if the name is for real. I tell him it sure is, but we don't know if she’s still around. He tells me plain as day that Courier Six is alive and well - let her carry the package, he told me. Said that once news spread about the delivery, Brianna O’Reilly would show her face again. Then he walks on out.”

“Just like that?” Brianna asked, feeling like she’d been kicked in the stomach. "Sounds like more than I bargained for already."

“Just like that,” Johnson confirmed, “like the Mojave would sort you out or somethin’. Bastard. I hope a storm from The Divide skins him alive. He must’ve known what was comin’ somehow, to give up on five thousand caps that easy.”

“And you don’t know where he went? What about who gave the delivery order?”

“Your strange friend walked out of the Mojave Express and never showed his face again. As for the delivery order, everything was paid upfront, no questions asked, no names given.” He pursed his lips, looking at her with something close to pity. “I wish I could do more, I really do. The only other person here who might be able to help y’ is Deputy Beagle. He likes to skulk around, ask questions, actin’ like he’s doin’ something useful. H e’s bein’ held by the rest of the convicts over in the Bison Steve.”

 

"Beagle, huh? That's starting to make a little too much sense."

“Wait, you mean he’s-?” Sunny attempted. “There’s still convicts? In Primm? Across the street?” 

“'Fraid so,” Nash replied, like they were talking about an unfortunate radroach infestation. “Bastards.”

“And they’ve got hostages?” 

“Just Beagle, thankfully.”

“And you’re not - I don’t know,  _ doing  _ anything about it?”

“Listen, if Primm had a lawman who could aim a gun without pissin’ himself, maybe we could’ve skirted around this situation. Hasn’t been the same since the sheriff got shot. With the way it is now, we killed most of their guys, they killed enough of ours, now we’re both just holed up waitin’ for each other to make a move.”

“And the NCR are out there eating popcorn and watching it all happen through their fingers,” Brianna said, hearing an edge of spite in her voice. “We’ll get your deputy back. Gift-wrapped.”

“It ain’t that cowardly sack of shit we’re worried about, but feel free, I s’ppose. Good luck, Six. Not that y' seem to need it these days.”

* * *

 

“Does this feel like a bad idea to you?” Sunny asked, as she, Brianna and ED-E headed through the torn-up Bison Steve hotel and casino. Brianna couldn’t remember what the place had looked like before it had become a derelict stain on the slightly less derelict Primm, but the Vera Keyes poster in the lobby now had a giant spray-painted penis and devil horns that she’d definitely never seen before. Some of the furniture had been tossed around and it reeked like the convicts had set a couple of garbage cans on fire. It turned out they had, as Sunny and Brianna passed through the hallway and debated over the quality of Brianna’s idea.

“You think I dragged my undying ass all the way out here just for Johnson Nash to tell me there was  _ somethin’ sorta strange  _ about that package?” She jerked to attention at the sound of approaching footsteps. “We can do better than that, can’t we, ED-E?”

The robot bleeped in agreement before blasting out a surge of battle music.

The three convicts in the doorway took a few seconds to gape at them before charging down the hallway with pistols at the ready. Sunny took the first one down with two shots to the leg while Brianna stepped in to disarm his friend, making sure to smack him across the jaw with his gun before beating him unconscious with it. The third looked like he’d already changed his mind about things before ED-E burned through his chest with a spray of laser beams. With no time to waste looting bodies, they pressed on through the corridor that followed, taking down convicts as they went. Brianna slammed a man's head into a slot machine and sent him crashing to the floor while Sunny took out two convicts who came at her with spiked bats, tossing her pistol to Brianna for reloading and landing an impressive headshot as soon as she threw it back to her.

Once they reached the upstairs corridor, it was clear that the tacky hotel room suites belonged to the badder convicts with bigger guns and a bigger tolerance for damage.

So they caused a lot more damage.

The convicts seemed to emerge from every room along the hallway, some with cheap pistols chittering and others with assault rifles waiting to be fired. Brianna swung her elbow into the nearest attacker’s face and knocked him back in time to put down three others with her shotgun, mowing a path for Sunny to take down some of the others - six bullets meant six painful holes in six convicts’ vital organs every single time. While ED-E did his best to blast through the enemies, Sunny managed to fend off a machete-swinging convict with a swift kick to the groin before Brianna tossed her reloaded weapon back. Brianna used her axe to split a convict’s head like a grape. A bullet narrowly missed Sunny’s shoulder as she fired two shots into the attacker’s midsection. She gritted her teeth and returned the bullet with a better placed shot, enough to send him sprawling back.

Just when they’d carved a path towards the dining room, a force threw Brianna face-first against the wall. She pushed back and spun to meet him, right on time for a cleaver to swipe across her face. She felt the bridge of her nose split open, as shallow and sharp as a paper cut. Before she could retaliate, a bloody eye was painted across his forehead, weeping red as he slumped to the ground. Sunny Smiles looked grimly at the body, gave Brianna a quick once-over and silently urged for them to press on. 

“That reminds me of when I was shot in the head,” she said wistfully. “Just like that.”

“You sound like a woman who needs to talk to someone,” Sunny pointed out. “Urgently.”

“You’re right, it was a pretty  _ grave  _ situation.”

“Oh my- oh my God. That is unbelievable.”

“Hey, no need to  _ shoot me _ down like that.”

“This conversation is like a near-death experience, Brianna, just-”

“Oh, come on, I think you Khan handle it.”

“Listen, you can’t just-” Sunny attempted, but she snorted like a bighorner and broke down into giggles before she could continue. “You’re gonna be  _ chip  _ outta luck if you don’t-”

A muffled cry cut off what might have been some proud tears. She and Sunny exchanged questioning glances before setting off in search of the sound. The frantic mumbling couldn’t have been coming from any further than the next room over; they checked the storage cupboard first and found a skeleton swaying from a noose that looked suspiciously like a tacky western-themed hotel prop. It was only when they tried to open the elevator and found that the buttons were completely busted that they noticed the muffled screaming was getting louder.

Looking dubious, Sunny knocked politely on the elevator door. “Uh, Deputy Beagle? You in there?”

A muffled garble that sounded like confirmation.

“You decent?” Brianna asked.

A similar response, a little more shrill this time.

“Alright, alright. Shimmy back a little.”

It took a few minutes of hacking furiously at the doors until Sunny went rooting around for a crowbar. Brianna pried the elevator open to reveal the white-faced deputy, his sweaty hair clamped to his skull and his pants openly betraying that he’d pissed himself at least twice. His hands were bound behind his back and he had a few nasty bruises spreading across his face, altogether looking like your typical ripped-off Gomorrah patron. Brianna squatted down to his level and cupped his face with her hand, tilting his chin up so he looked her in the eyes.

“Alright, Beagle, you can thank us for saving your sorry ass later. Right now, I have a couple of questions.”

“You really think now’s the time?” The deputy asked, laughing nervously. “I’m in a bit of a predicament here. As in, I’m literally bein’ held hostage. I’d really appreciate it if you freed me up, then maybe we can chat.”

“Sweetheart, you won’t know a thing about predicaments until you hear what I’ve got to say. See, I learned from a friend of a friend that you were out measuring dicks with a man in a chequered suit a few nights ago. Handsome stranger, New Vegas type, you remember Benny, don’t you?”

“I, uh- look, I really don’t know what you’re-”

“Cut the crap, Beagle, yes you do, and I bet you were real upset when the stranger you were battin’ eyes at ended up shooting an innocent courier in the face before he rolled outta town. But maybe you already saw that coming. Maybe those couple of drinks we had in the bar that night had me telling you everything a hitman would need to know about an unsuspecting target. Don’t look at me like that, Piss Man, you know you can’t fuck with the people who deliver your mail, basic wasteland etiquette. Why are you protecting him? Why did you ask so many questions that night at the bar?” 

“Let me go and I promise I’ll-”

She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face close to hers. “How much did he pay you to get information out of me? How much did he pay you so he could track me down to the perfect burial site for someone who never would’ve had a funeral anyway? How much was my life worth to you?!” She yelled. “They shoved my head in a fucking potato sack and buried me alive, you  _ owe  _ it to me to tell me what you gained from that. What did he pay?!”

“Three hundred caps!” The deputy cried. “I didn’t know, I- I’m sorry!”

“You hear that, Sunny? He says he’s sorry.” She let him go and got to her feet. “Come on, get up.”

Beagle gaped at her. “What?”

“On your feet, I’m letting you go. You said sorry, it’s fine.”

“Wait, are you-?” His eyes were wide with terror but he stumbled to his feet and moved out of the elevator. “D’ you mean it?”

“No, of course I don’t mean it, you fucking asswipe,” she said, and punched him in the face. He fell back, clumsy and useless with his hands still tied. Brianna pinned him against the wall and pressed her gun against his jaw. He cringed back from the barrel with the crumpling expression of a melting wax figure, melting under the pressure before she’d even started. “Tell me what you spent the money on."

“It doesn’t matter, I- I promise, it’s stupid, it’s-”

“Tell me right now,” she hissed, “or not only will I blow your brains out, but I’ll cut all that pretty hair of yours off and start up a charity that makes wigs for ugly irradiated ghoul children.”

“Jesus Christ, I was gonna blow it all in Vegas, alright? Thought I’d take a vacation, hire some strippers, play some goddamn poker and try to make it big! He told me he’d put a good word in for me with the Chairmen, get me one of those fancy big suites at The Tops.”

“You sick sack of shit,” she breathed, feeling her blood run cold. “You have no idea how lucky you are that I don’t plan on carving out your large intestine and using it as a skipping rope while you’re still alive to watch me do it - and that is  _ only  _ because I want you to live out the rest of your miserable life knowing you handed over a stranger for the sake of a fancy hotel suite and a handful of strippers who would never even dream of touching you if you didn’t have three hundred caps in blood money.” Her stomach heaved. She couldn’t look at the coward’s terrified expression so she looked back at Sunny and ED-E instead. “Either of you two got an opinion on this?”

“You’re damn right I do,” Sunny glowered, storming to the opposite side of Beagle. “Listen, pal, we both know damn well that this place is home to a million different kinds of awful people who are gonna act like depraved, sub-human shitheads just because they can, but that doesn’t mean you  _ enable  _ those bastards just because they throw some money at you and make promises they won’t keep. You’re supposed to help people, protect people, but you’re nothing but a self-serving coward and a creep. We’ll make sure everybody in Primm knows what you’ve done, so say goodbye to your stupid badge and say goodbye to your three hundred caps because the  _ only  _ kind of shitty behaviour I plan on ever enabling is my friend’s, when she trashes your house and takes your stupid money.”

ED-E beeped furiously in agreement.

“No, you- please, you can’t! You would’ve done the same, both of you would!”

“Trust me, I’ve had my fill of New Vegas,” Brianna snapped. “And everybody in this fucking wasteland but you and Benny know better than to mess with your supply lines.”

“Listen, stranger, you keeping me tied up like this, threatening me, that’s no better than what I did to you. How about I help you track that killer down, you know, make up for everything? How does that sound?”

“You must be the dumbest son of a bitch this side of the Hoover Dam, Beagle, I didn’t come here just to teach you a goddamn moral lesson, Jesus Christ.” She clicked the safety off her gun. “You’re gonna tell me where that weasel went or I go back to that plan where I use your entrails for playground activities -  _ and  _ I’m taking your money  _ and  _ we’re tattling to everybody in town about what a bad boy you’ve been this week, no matter what you say to me. Take a deep breath, pal. This is how it feels to have all of your choices taken away from you by a trigger I might never even pull. Did he say he’d be heading back to New Vegas? Was there anybody with him? Did he say why he needed the package, why it was so important?”

“I’m startin’ to wish you’d never climbed outta that grave,” the ex-deputy lamented. “He said they’d be heading to Novac through Nipton to meet a contact there, it looked like Great Khans were involved but they hung low, didn’t speak to nobody, never had a chance to find out for certain. And I don’t know a damn thing about that package, and I hope to God I never do.”

“And I hope you get ripped apart by golden geckoes at the ripe old age of forty-three, because I seriously wouldn’t bet on anybody remembering you for more than a couple months. Have fun with your pathetic life, Beagle. Oh, and I’m taking the deputy badge. Now you’re just a Beagle.”

So they left the ex-deputy behind, trashed his home, left a strong recommendation with Johnson Nash that Primm Slimm would make a pretty decent sheriff in a conversation that went down better than Brianna had expected, and then they headed down the long road to Nipton with their new robot son.


	4. No Wedding Bells For Today

_ “So when you finally kiss goodbye to those final little spurts of blood that spill from your body to nourish the gasping Mojave soil, close your eyes and remember a time when you were more than this. A time when you were more than just a dying husk of the person you were before you charged into that raider’s knife. A time when you remembered music, laughter, purpose… and the refreshing taste of an ice-cold Nuka Cola. Nuka Cola: quench your thirst, and a little bit more. This message has been brought to you by Primm. Primm: the other New Vegas.” _

* * *

 

The Mojave Desert was getting dark. There was nothing but winding roads and quiet desert, the metallic buzz of distant insects, and the low, drawling voice of their loyal companion, Mr New Vegas. Three hundred caps burned a hole in her backpack while the smoke trail up ahead stung her eyes. An uneasy feeling nestled in Brianna’s stomach as the sun ducked behind the mountains. It seemed to radiate some distant kind of terror as her Pip-Boy marker edged closer to the digital square that marked out Nipton. But that billowing smoke trail felt too much like a death sentence for the courier, the robot, and the one-handed bandit who shifted uneasily at the welcome sign they passed by. 

**WELCOME TO NIPTON - THE HAPPIEST LITTLE TOWN IN THE WORLD.**

But the town was mostly on fire. Flames were still flickering weakly on the mountains of tires and garbage that stood between each home, though some just belched out smoke across the charred remains. That was almost okay. The town was silent aside from the crackling of fire, a strange thing for a place full of sex workers and drug dealers who thrived on nightlife as much as plants do with rainfall. But she could have made excuses for the silence. Even the human teeth scattered across a nearby mailbox weren’t extremely out of the ordinary, and she wasn’t overly surprised to see the severed hand nailed to somebody’s front door, middle finger raised. Just another day in Sinville, who cared? But the two crimson flags that pierced the bruised-coloured sky right in the centre of town, that was not alright. This was the furthest from alright she’d felt in a very long time, and those two prancing bulls made her realise that Primm had only been purgatory. 

This was Hell on Earth. 

She couldn’t turn back. Sunny didn’t even protest as they continued down the barren street, pulled towards the centre of town as if by the beckoning some invisible hand. If they were the first people to witness the destruction in this place, they had to stay. They had to see it and remember it, even if there were many who believed that Nipton should have burned long ago, others who were sure it already had. But Brianna couldn’t think of any place that deserved to be burned at the hands of Caesar’s Legion. Crosses lined the streets like picket fences and every man became a martyr here, strung up on his crucifix by the wrists and ankles - prostitutes, profligates Powder Gangers. They looked dead, smelled dead, most of them empty-eyed, slack-jawed, skin bleached with over a day’s worth of blistering sunlight. The town reeked of death, cold and heavy like a noose around her neck. 

This was a burial ground. This was a town-sized dumpster fire. But she could have sworn one of the bodies flinched when a crow swooped down and pecked at the peeling flesh on his cheek. Some of them were whispering, or maybe just one, or maybe it was just a breath of wind. Or maybe the wind had a name, a lover, a rotten set of lungs crushed beneath his hunched body, repeating that same desperate word over and over like a prayer.

_ "Please... Please..." _

She didn’t expect the orgasmic cry that followed after the dead man’s whispering. She swerved around in source of the shout, so sharp and full of ecstasy like someone had just won the lottery. Before she could wonder what the hell was going on, the guy bounced out from nowhere and cackled behind a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses. He threw his arms around the two of them and yanked them into a group hug, skipping back and laughing like a pre-war kid in a playground. "I won! I won!” He danced around them like a cazador on Jet. “I won the fuckin' lottery, man! Woo-hoo! Good to see you, robot man! Woo-hoo! God, smell that air! Couldn't ya just drink it like booze?!"

"What in the fresh hell happened in this place?" Brianna snapped. “What are you talking about, pal?”

"Man, you are way too serious! I won the freakin' lottery! Only lottery that matters! Hell yeah!"

“Are you gonna be any kind of help to us, asshole?” She asked, yanking the sunglasses off his face and, on an afterthought, securing them on ED-E’s front. The stranger’s eyes were red and bleary, but she couldn’t tell if he’d been shooting up or crying. Maybe both. “Are you high?”

"High on life, baby! And I'm finally gettin' outta this place!"

"Don't let me keep you," she said, but the guy was already sprinting down the road and out of town. 

“Have you ever seen anybody look so happy surrounded by crucified gang members?” Sunny asked, her voice hushed like this was a church and not a crime scene. “Shit, we have to keep going. We have to find out who did this and- I don’t know. Hurt them. A lot.”

“We already know who did it. Now we’ve got to find them.”

As it turned out, finding them was the easiest part. A squadron of Legion soldiers stood at attention outside the town hall, somehow terrifying despite their leather skirts, modified soccer jerseys and matching fanny packs. The man who strolled down the steps to meet them was dressed like one of those weird animal mascots from pre-war amusement parks, his face hidden behind a huge pair of sunglasses and a strange piece of headgear made from dog skin, ears and all. She would have laughed out loud if there wasn’t a street full of crucified profligates behind her. 

“This is just what I've been waiting for," said the legionnaire. “A wandering group of degenerates here to witness this town's punishment. How quaint.” Brianna wanted to ask why he talked like a bad movie villain, but he didn’t give her the chance. "My name is Vulpes Inculta. What you see before you here is justice. The town of Nipton was never anything more than a disgusting cesspit, a lecherous hole of whores and profligates. Its residents would gladly lead their fellow neighbours into a trap if such a thing promised reasonable pay - and they did, without hesitation, not knowing that they themselves had been lured into the snare as well."

"How about you just tell us what happened here and we can go our separate ways?" Brianna suggested, heart thumping in her throat. “Some kind of lottery, right?”

“Some kind of lottery indeed,” he replied. “It was really quite simple: we herded the residents into the centre of town, and most followed without the slightest restraint, believing they would be rewarded for their actions against the others. And then we announced the lottery. Each clutched their ticket, watching as 'loved ones' were dragged away to be slaughtered. None raised a finger against us. Few even tried to protest. The lucky ones were decapitated, their heads thrown at the feet of those who watched. Others were crucified and displayed in the streets as an example to wanderers like yourselves. The mayor had the honour of being burned at the stake. Two people survived. Only one walked out of this town. Before you say anything, keep in mind that this was a lesson, and one of many that will follow. No man, woman or child who suffered here didn’t deserve their pain."

“You think falling on hard times means you deserve to die in agony?” Brianna asked, seething, but keeping her hands off her weapons just in case. “You think people sell sex and chems because it’s easy, because they want to? God, imagine what you’d do to slavers and rapists - oh, shit, I’m sorry. I forgot they’re just your type.”

“And what about the kids?” Sunny asked, her voice meek, afraid - brave. “How can you think they deserved that? You never even gave them a chance.”

"The Legion punishes the wicked, the cruel, the proud, the greedy. No one in this town was worthy of exception.  We were seven people, ushering them into the square and dragging away their families, their children, their friends. Everyone was armed. They could have resisted us, but instead they did nothing. The ticket was all that mattered. They obeyed the rules of the lottery like a herd of brahmin and each one was given more mercy than they deserved."

"They were scared!” 

"As they should have been. Unless you'd like to meet a similar fate, follow these instructions. Take a walk. Memorise every detail of what you see here until it's burned into your mind. Then I want you to retreat and spread the word of what you've seen here. Scamper back to the hill where the New California Republic hide behind their monument, and tell them what happened here, what they  _ allowed  _ to happen. And if you fail us, expect a visit.”

_ Expect six shots in the head,  _ Brianna thought.  But as the legionnaires left the smoking town behind, she just stood there and watched them go.

* * *

 

“Tell me you’re lying. For the love of God, civilian, tell me that’s a joke.”

Brianna realised for the first time in her life that even albinos could grow pale. The news about Nipton was enough to make the NCR Ranger live up to her nickname, but Ghost still wasn’t letting herself buy it. Though how an expertly trained sniper could spend twenty-three hours a day staring out at the desert through a scope without seeing her most fearsome enemy light Nipton on fire was beyond her. Maybe they’d done it during her bathroom break.

“Are crucifixions funny to you? I’m not laughing.”

“You’re  _ sure  _ that’s what you saw?” Brianna could feel the intensity of her stare even from behind those giant sunglasses. They reminded her a little too much of the pair Vulpes Inculta had been wearing. “No stupid pretend flags, idiots playing dress-up, maybe a really similar gang sign?”

“We know who we talked to,” Sunny spat. “It was the Legion. Frumentarii. And they  _ are _ idiots playing dress-up.”

“Wait, you talked to them? Who? I need to know every last detail before I send this to my superiors. How many of them? What did they want?”

“Too many,” Sunny replied. “There were seven of them, the leader was called Vulpes Inculta. He said they burned Nipton to teach us all a lesson. Only one person survived that we saw, and either he was already insane or they made him that way. They told us to memorise every little detail and make sure everybody at the Outpost knows about it, or there’d be consequences. And that it was your fault. You let it happen.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ghost’s eyes followed the distant smoke trail upwards, hands clasped together as if in prayer. After a shaky breath, she was all hard-edged business again. “I’ll send word to my superiors right away. We can’t just sit back and watch while the Legion smokes our towns right in front of us. And just to prove a goddamn point.” 

“Looks like it worked,” Brianna said grimly. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Something. We’re gonna do something, somehow, we’re- hell, I don’t know. But we’re not just gonna take this hit, I can promise you that. There’s no way those bastards got into Nipton under my nose unless they passed through Ranger Station Charlie, and it’s been quiet out there for two days now. Wish we had the soldiers and supplies to just…” She paused for a moment, lips pursed. “I didn’t tell you this, but if you two strangers happen to pass by the station, radio in and let us know what the situation is. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll know it’s still occupied by...”

“By whoever took it over,” Sunny said, her gaze not shifting from the sniper. They both knew the Legion had passed through that station. “Okay, we’ll check it out. Anything else you need?”

“A stiff drink and an extra squadron of soldiers around me,” she replied. “But from you, nothing. You sticking around here a while longer? I’ll make sure you get paid for helping us with this.”

“It’s gonna take a lot of caps to get that city out of my mind,” Brianna replied. “If you need us, we’ll be selling dynamite to cattle ranchers. Have a nice night.”

* * *

 

The Mojave Outpost was like a brahmin ranch gone wrong. NCR snipers nestled in the shadows and brahmin crunched on bone-dry grass while their owners sold scrap and smoked the night away. They sold their dynamite to some cattle ranchers as intended, putting together enough caps to afford a couple of rooms at the bar. The barracks were usually reserved for soldiers, but Brianna knew from experience that the barkeep would give a cazador a bed for the night if it meant a few extra caps to gamble in a game of Caravan. As it turned out, she must have let a whole hive of them spend the night there, since there wasn’t a single bed to spare.

“Are you kidding me, Lacey?” Brianna asked, swinging her legs over the bar stool while Sunny took a seat beside her, looking like someone had just kicked her dog. “Look, I’m the soon-to-be heir of a pretty sizeable fortune and I promise, I’ll remember you in my will if you could-”

“Brianna O’Reilly?” Came a voice that did not belong to the barkeep. “Six? That you?”

The speaker was the only other person sitting at the bar, and she looked far too much like Rose of Sharon Cassidy. Brianna might have looked twice at the brown leather jacket and red hair, but that rose pendant necklace and the glass of whiskey in her hand was a sight so familiar it was like the last nine months had never even happened. Like this was just another rest-stop between caravan treks.

“And here I thought there were other pale redheads in the desert. Nope, still just you, Cass.”

“And  _ I  _ thought there were other couriers stupid enough to get shot in the head and stand back up again,” she replied. “Guess it just had to be the luckiest asshole in the Mojave. Thought you were dead, Six.” She took a slow drink, considering the bottle for a moment before pouring herself another. “Thought the wasteland finally caught you.”

“Looks like it caught you first,” Brianna said, feeling uneasy. The more she looked at her old companion, the more she realised that this wasn’t the same woman whose caravan she’d guarded through the scorching wastes. The whiskey-flushed cheeks and cautious eyes weren’t new, but Cass looked pale and exhausted, mouth set in a grim line, fingers tap-tapping against the glass. Their eyes met for a second. Brianna didn’t see those long, hot Mojave days anymore. She saw the empty silhouettes of the strangers who had beaten her half to death in a New Vegas alleyway. “Where the hell did you go, Cass? I thought we had something good going. You left me there.” It wasn’t supposed to sound like an accusation, but it was hard not to feel hurt when you remembered the passionate bond between your stomach and a stranger’s foot.

“We thought you ghosted on us, Six. Well,  _ I  _ thought it. Rest of those stupid merc assholes pissed away all their caps and ditched the caravan that night in Vegas, thought they’d made their fortune already. Until they sobered up. Place is a fucking flytrap. I heeled on outta there as fast as I could, thought you’d ended up the same as the rest of the dead-beats, getting sucked off by so many hookers that they dried up into husks and blew down the fucking street. You got a look on your face like that didn’t happen. How long before you high-tailed it out of that hive? Or did y’ get your feet stuck a while?”

“Decided to stick around a little while” she lied, noticing Sunny’s doubtful expression. “Never thought I’d end up having so much fun. What are you doing holed up in this place anyway? I’d say waiting for your favourite mercenary to blow back around would be a bad idea, but here I am, with two new friends,” she beamed. “ED-E, say hi,”

ED-E said hi. Or at least, she assumed he did. Sunny waved, still looking confused. Cass sighed.

“Shit got bad, Six. Lost the caravan heading up north, everything burned, even the driver. Strange thing is, they didn’t even take the cargo, just burned that too. Guess that’s what I get for leaving you behind in that place. My luck ran out when you did. And while you were out there getting shot in the head, my caravan got burned to ash. My guess is Legion, tryin’ to hack at NCR supply lines while they can. But the Legion keep their caravans safe as houses, and the NCR… well, just look at this place. We’re locked up tighter than a New Vegas virgin. No caravans in, out, not a goddamn thing going on because the roads aren’t safe. As for me, my caravan papers are keepin’ me here. No hope of gettin’ out.”

“Your caravan papers?” Sunny piped. “For a caravan that’s burned to ash?”

“Exactly, blondie, and I don’t think the solution here is to walk on out and trek the wasteland with you and the worst kind of good luck you’ll find out here.” She turned her attention back to Brianna. “You got shot in the face and  _ you got better.  _ When that shit happens, it happens once. Not gonna try my luck with those odds, not even if it’s you, not even if I could.”

“Got shot twice, actually.”

“What? Jesus Christ, by the same guy? Or was this two unrelated near-death experiences?”

“Oh, same guy, don’t worry. You’d think he would’ve got the job done with the first shot, right?”

“See? This is what I mean. Running with you is bad news, Six. Double-time.”

“You want to drink your sorrows in peace, then?” Sunny asked. “Honestly, I think you can do better than that. If you think it was the Legion, why not fight back and get out of this place? You could set up again, pull things back together. It’s not too late.”

“Sweetheart, if I wanted a motivational speech I’d get it from one of the miserable fucks outside trying to pull together a life made out of scavenged junk and scrap. I bet one of ‘em’s even sellin’ a poster with those words on it. I’ve got a couple ounces of pride still left, I’m not ditching Cassidy Caravans even if it’s nothing but a slip of paper and a scorch mark on some lonely highway. Go and preach to someone a little more eager to sell their soul. As for you,” she continued, not quite meeting Brianna’s eyes. “Go on, leave me behind. It’ll be just like old times, except you get to turn the tables. Pretend you never saw me here and walk on out.”

“If I wanted payback I’d go looking for the people who knocked the shit out of me in a New Vegas back alley,” she retorted. “I never ditched you on purpose, you know, I was bleeding to death. Nothing you could have done to change what happened. But if you want me to make a big thing about walking out on you, at least pretend to cry. Go on, it’ll be hilarious.”

“How about I just  _ don’t  _ do that instead?” She suggested. “I’ve got heartaches by the number as it is.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve got troubles by the score.”

“Every day you love me less is the day I love you more,” she finished, her mouth threatening to smile. “I’ll see you around, Six. Then again, probably not. Kind of nice to know you’re still alive.”

“Right back at you, Cass. Try staying that way.”

* * *

 

_ “Yippee-yay, there’ll be no wedding bells for today!” _

When they headed out the next morning, Ranger Station Charlie was dead and gone. A smoked-out shell of empty huts and caravans, bloatflies hovering around like saucer-eyed Grim Reapers. The strangest thing about it all was that there weren’t any signs of a fight, no mysterious blood smears or smoke trails in the sky. The closest thing to a crime scene was the plastic souvenir mug that had toppled off a table, leaving a splash of frigid coffee on the floor. Half-eaten sandwiches and half-smoked cigarettes, like the soldiers had packed up and left in the night. This was a sight that lived in campfire horror stories.

“Guess we should radio into the Outpost,” Sunny suggested dubiously, eyes narrowed and scanning around the station as if there was some kind of clue they’d missed. 

“Doesn’t feel right, does it?” Brianna said, lighting up the remains of an abandoned cigarette to ease her nerves a little. 

“You saw what the Legion did in Nipton. Why pass through an NCR station and leave it empty, what kind of lesson is that supposed to teach? There’s gotta be something. Has to be.”

They kept looking, but there was no sign of what that hidden something was until Brianna pried open the door to the Comms Station with a stray tire iron in search of a ham radio. That was where they found the bodies. The soldiers were strewn about the deserted office building like a gang of passed-out drunks after a bar brawl; some of their faces had been smashed in beyond recognition while others were bloody from stab wounds. One soldier’s leg had been cut off at the knee, decaying in a pool of blood. 

“Great,” Brianna said, trying to block out the stench of corpses with a hand over her nose while Sunny turned her head and gagged. “Lesson number fucking two. And I thought waking up in a brahmin pen would be the worst thing to happen to us today.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Sunny replied, looking pale as she stared at the bodies. “Let’s just radio in and get out of here.” As Brianna made for the ham radio across the room, she continued, “You know, I think I’d feel a little better if I thought the NCR were gonna do something to end all this.”

“Speaking ill of the dead when they’re pissing out blood right in front of you?” Brianna accused. “And here I thought you were a glass-half-full type of-”

_ “Stop!” _

Before she could react, Sunny yanked Brianna away from the radio and the dead soldier slumped next to it. Heart hammering, she opened her mouth to protest before spotting the wide-eyed horror on her friend’s face. Without speaking, Sunny urged Brianna back a few steps further and gestured towards the corpse. And for a moment, it continued to be just that. But the more Brianna looked, the more she realised something was wrong, in a way somehow worse than a station full of butchered soldiers. There was a dim red light glowing beneath the soldier’s outstretched arm.

He was booby-trapped.

“Frag mines,” Sunny breathed, backing towards the centre of the room in what might be the safest range from the rest of the bodies. “So the NCR can’t come back to retrieve the dog tags, right? Okay, maybe I don’t like the NCR all that much, but what kind of sick freaks…?”

ED-E beeped solemnly from behind his heart-shaped sunglasses.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Sunny said. “They’ll figure out what happened. There’s nothing we can do except hurt the bastards if we see them. You think they’ll run into a cazador nest on the way home?”

“I sure as hell hope so. Let’s go.”

They went, and Gene Autry’s spurs jingled and jangled along with their footsteps.

* * *

 

_ “And now for another wasteland favourite, I’ve Got Spurs by Gene Autry. Yes, again. Damn, I love this song. This is Mr New Vegas coming to you with good tunes and hard truth, sprinkled with a whole lot of love.” _


	5. Come Fly With Me

_ “That was Johnny Guitar, folks, a wasteland classic. There was never a man like that Johnny… except maybe you, listener. If you like news, you’re gonna love our next segment. We’ve had reports that the package courier shot in the head outside Goodsprings has made a full recovery. Now that’s a delivery service you can count on. As if things couldn’t get stranger with that little town, Goodsprings has fended off a prison full of escaped convicts after organising an impromptu militia. This is coming from an old man, armed to the teeth with dynamite. How’s that for community? Coming up next, a long trek in the burning heat and some words on civilisation by Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters. Enjoy” _

* * *

 

Something was glinting from the mouth of the dinosaur in the centre of town. From below, it was hard to tell whether it was binoculars or a scope. Either way, they were being watched. 

“Yeah, they’re called centaurs,” Brianna continued, as they headed along the quiet road into Novac. “They’re pretty much these hell monstrosities with a whole bunch of tongues. My friend tried to pet one once. She only needed a few stitches, it was okay, I guess. Not exactly the most fuckable wasteland creature, you know? I kind of miss them though. Even super mutants need pets, right?”

Sunny just looked at her, mystified. “So what would you rank as the  _ most  _ fuckable wasteland creature?” Before she could say radscorpions, Sunny said, "Hey, is that Victor?"

There was no mistaking that grinning cowboy face on the robot’s screen as they headed past the dinosaur and towards the broken No Vacancy sign in front of the motel. ED-E gave a wary beep as they approached him. Brianna tried to decide if the Securitron was actually there or just a product of excessive heat and low water intake.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” the robot drawled, “if it ain’t my two friends from Goodsprings!”

“Nice to see you, Victor,” Sunny greeted. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I don’t rightly know, partner! I just got the notion to roll my way over to New Vegas. Reckon I’ll find out why when I get there. Thought I’d make a quick pit-stop, rest up for a while, but between you and me… somethin’ about this place makes my skin itch. Watch yourself.”

“Honestly, Victor,” Brianna replied, “I’ll be impressed if we find anything in this place that makes me more uncomfortable than you do.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, partner.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, d’you have any idea who we could talk to about finding the guy who shot me in the face? A little bird told me they ran through here not so long ago.”

“You still fancy your chances against those bandits, buckaroo? That’s mighty brave of y’ if you don’t mind me sayin’. I suppose y’ could ask that stranger up in the dino mouth. I’ll bet whoever that is doesn’t let an awful lot slip by him. Just a hunch, of course.”

* * *

 

Brianna almost broke her neck on a dinosaur figure when they walked into Dino-Bite Gift Shop. YES, WE SELL T-REXES said the sign behind the counter. DINOSAURS? WE GOT ‘EM! said the spray-paint behind the large shelf spilling over with miniature green figurines. SELLING OUT FAST said the handmade poster above a miscellaneous pile of t-rexes just bunched up in the corner of the room. Brianna felt like she was having a stroke, or maybe one of those fabled six month after-effects of doing too much Daytripper. The intense amount of small dinosaurs in such a small space was a little overwhelming.

“Welcome to the Dino-Bite Gift Shop,” welcomed the store owner, who didn’t seem concerned with the raw power of probably sixteen thousand dinosaur figurines. “My name’s Cliff. If you’re here for the t-rex figurines, you’re just in time, there’s still a few left. Nice sunglasses on your robot, by the way.”

“Oh, actually, I’m here for the guy who shot me in the head,” Brianna clarified. “And the robot isn’t ours, he’s his own man. Is it alright if I chat to the sniper up there?”

“Take a few of our exclusive t-rex figurines and I’ll let you dig up my mother and chat to her if you want,” he chuckled. “Seriously. You can have ‘em for free, just tell all your friends to stop by too. And, uh, maybe only one of you up at the sniper’s nest. Not a lot of wiggle room up there.”

“That’s okay,” Sunny said, looking despairing as her eyes darted from one pile of dinosaurs to the next. “I’ll see you in a bit, Brianna.”

There was nothing she could do as she headed up the steps and left her companions to the mercy of Cliff Briscoe. The view was bleak from the sniper’s nest, all cracked roads and sloping hills that blurred against the sickly yellow sky. She covered her ears and watched as the sniper crouched low, aiming at a feral ghoul that was racing down the road like a drunk man on fire. One shot sent him sprawling to the ground.

“That reminds me of the time I got shot in the head,” Brianna reminisced. “Except you’ve got better aim.”

The sniper barely reacted, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and turning slowly to face her. He had a deep desert tan and looked suspiciously like he dyed his facial hair jet black, with a heavy leather jacket covered in ammo pouches that almost matched the colour of his NCR beret. He gave her a neutral once-over, eyes widening when they lingered on the bullet scar. He let out an impressed whistle at the sight of it.

“You look like someone who needs a favour,” he observed. “Any chance that shooter is gonna come wandering down this road today?”

“Actually, I think he already has. I’m looking for a guy named Benny, checkered suit, hair gel, looks like the human equivalent of a mole rat jerking off against a pile of rocks," she said, with a few demonstrative thrusts to get her point across.

“Sure, I know that guy. What do you want with him?”

She looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was kidding. “Let’s just say he has something of mine, and I’m not talking about all those brain cells he shot out of me while I was tied up in a graveyard. I know he passed through here, not sure when, why, how long. Do you know where he went?”

“I could find out for you no problem. For a guy who dresses like that, he can’t have much finesse if he managed to leave a girl just  _ half _ -dead with a scar like that. Had to be point-blank, right?”

“Sure seemed hard to miss from where I was standing. Well, kneeling. On the ground. Crying a little.”

Her lungs decided that they didn't like the taste of air anymore, and spat out every molecule of the stuff.

“Huh. Bad aim like that, I bet he leaves a lot of loose ends untied. Well, listen, I can help you find him for sure, but I’ve got some problems of my own. Maybe we can do a trade? You know, scratching each other’s backs and all that. You look like you can handle it.”

“I won’t do anything involving animals or children. Hit me with it.”

“Listen, Novac is home for me now. I want that to be for good, I like it here. Left too many homes behind, know what I mean? But the only resource we got here is secrets and junk, but mostly junk. Without scrap to trade, most people won’t be able to make a living here, we’d all have to leave. We get most of our stuff from the rocket test site up the road, but a bunch of ghouls showed up a little while ago and took it over.”

“And you want me to give them a stern talking to?”

“Honestly, I don’t care how you deal with them as long as they go, otherwise this place will be a ghost town before long. It’d mean a whole lot to me if you took care of it however you could. Oh, my name’s Manny Vargas by the way.”

"Courier Six, such a pleasure to make your acquainatance. Wait, is that how you say that?"

* * *

 

Ferals crawled around the REPCONN test site like bloatflies on a carcass. She didn’t need to borrow Sunny’s binoculars to see the mass of red blips on her Pip-Boy map, and those jerky movements of the distant creatures who looked more like nuclear silhouettes than people from a distance. The air was heavy with the stench of death. Every few seconds, she got a sharp flash of blue across her eyes and the flash of emaciated claws. That old East Coast colour palette and all the pain that came along with it.

“I thought you said they were regular ghouls?” Sunny whispered, as they edged closer towards the site. "Wait, maybe I never even asked."

“I forgot to ask,” she admitted. “The sniper seemed to think we could talk them into going away.”

“If anybody could do that, I think I’d put my bets on you.”

“Hey, if we’re gonna die in here, I need to tell you something.” Their eyes met. “My Pip-Boy charisma score is six.”

Sunny snorted - too loud, too late to stop herself. The world went quiet. A feral shuffled unsteadily out from behind the rocket statue in the courtyard, not three feet away from where they stood. With unseeing eyes that glinted white in the sun, it seemed to bore a hole straight through her, arms twitching and reaching out like some demonic lost child. Its mouth fell open, nothing more than a gaping darkness guarded by two mangled rows of blood-slick teeth.

And then it screeched like a pre-war horror movie actress, a shrieking, guttural sound. That was when the others came running.

It was a bloody fifteen minutes full of far too many teeth. Brianna hacked and slashed and twirled her way through the oncoming horde of screeching zombies, chopping off heads and slicing through chunks of sagging milk-white flesh. It only took a few kills to cover her axe in gore, but Sunny’s pistol only seemed to make the monsters mad. While ED-E blasted lasers through the stragglers, the two women switched tactics with a glance. Sunny holstered the pistol and took the fire axe, fighting dirty with hard blows to the skull and forcing the hissing ferals back with rough shoulder barges and headbutts. Brianna readied her shotgun and blasted holes in torsos, not enough to kill the ferals, but enough to knock them flying. She trampled over their writhing bodies as the trio fought their way through the courtyard, thoroughly blood-stained and breathless by the time they reached the front door.

The darkness swallowed them up as soon as they pushed through the entrance. It looked like someone had cut the main power, leaving only a few dimly glowing sconces on the walls to make the blood stains around them shimmer. The mess wasn’t much of a surprise, but there was something about the red-robed bodies strewn about the floor that made Brianna look twice. When she bent down to get a closer look, she realised it was the flaking skin that had grabbed her attention. There wasn’t a single human among the corpses, all ghouls of the more put-together variation. Some of them had died grasping for energy weapons that lay just a little out of reach, plasma rifles and laser pistols, like they all had gift cards to the Silver Rush.

As it turned out, the dead ghouls weren’t the strangest thing that could be found on the floor of the facility. At Sunny’s sudden gasp, Brianna whipped around and grabbed for her gun, but her friend just stood there with a hand clapped over her mouth, staring at the crumpled mass that lay at her feet. Brianna clicked on her Pip-Boy light, casting an amber glow across the ten-foot corpse. She’d heard stories about mutants like this, all hulking muscle and night blue skin. The leather straps around its face pulled back the creature’s lips into a cold sneer, its mouth a mess of yellow teeth and bright red gums. The tattered red tunic it wore didn’t do much to make this thing look any closer to human. Even with the gaping hole blown through its torso, the mutant must have torn its way through the group of ghouls before finally collapsing from the laser blasts. 

“We used to have stories about those things back where I came from,” Sunny breathed. “They could turn invisible, rip brahmin to shreds in the middle of the night. That’s why we call them nightkin. Kind of always hoped it was a story to keep us inside when it got dark.”

Brianna gave the dead nightkin a hesitant prod with her foot. She couldn’t even budge the thing. 

“Hey remind me again why we’re in here?” Sunny asked, voice shrill with the early stages of panic. “I mean, we can just ask around somewhere else in Novac, right? Tell me I’m right.”

“You’re right, but this thing looks pretty dead and the rest of them might already be-”

A crackling voice cut her off, rough and ragged from somewhere unseen.

“Hey, over here! You! Are you listening?” It took a moment before they realised the voice was coming from the intercom, with all the signature raspiness of a ghoul. “Go to the big room on the east side of the building and take the metal staircase all the way up.”

“Who the hell are you?” Brianna asked. “Do you know these dead guys down here?”

“None of your damn business yet, just do it. And hurry.”

Sunny gave Brianna a dubious glance, but they continued on through the building with weapons drawn. “Not to be cliche or anything, but does this seem like a really obvious trap to you?”

“It’ll be a valuable experience in our relationship if we get both our heads crushed with a rebar club.”

“You know, Cheyenne never gave me this kind of trouble.”

“And I bet she’ll never give you half as many stories to tell. Come on, stairs are up this way.”

They didn’t find anymore nightkin, just trampled through puddles of blood and skirted past the bodies of more dead ghouls. A feral would hurl itself out of a dark corner every few minutes, shrieking and clawing and only succeeding in scaring the shit out of them before it got a bullet lodged neatly through the brain. Every one of Brianna’s nerves was on edge as they navigated through endless hallways and dead-end rooms. Finally, they reached the next intercom.

“Good,” crackled the stranger’s voice, “you made it. Alright, smoothskins, I’m letting you in, but watch yourselves. I’ll sure as hell be watching you.”

Brianna took a couple of slow breaths to calm her nerves as the door at the top of the stairs unlocked with a soft click. When she saw the man from the intercom face to face, she had to do a double take. Then another. 

“God, but you are ugly!” Croaked a middle-aged guy in a lab coat who looked like he fixed up old radios for a living. His skin was as smooth as a newborn and although his hairline had all but disappeared, it looked like more of an unfortunate ageing process than the effects of ghoulification. “Look, just get the hell upstairs before I throw up just from looking at you.”

“I don’t know what kind of crisis you’re having, pal, but I’d love to borrow the moisturiser you’re using. You’ve got skin like a ripe peach, I’m not seeing any ghoul on you.”

He didn’t look flattered. “Your stupid pranks won’t work on me, smoothskin. Now stop wasting my time and go speak to Jason, I didn’t bring you both up here for no reason.”

Brianna raised an eyebrow but said nothing, trying not to laugh out loud at the pretend ghoul as she headed up the steps with Sunny and ED-E. A number of ghouls in burgundy robes were tinkering with dusty lab equipment and old terminals, none of them paying the newcomers any mind, aside from a few sideways glances and turning heads. As it turned out, the person they were looking for was the ghoulified equivalent of a disco ball, impossible to miss in the dim light. His pale green skin was mottled with glowing radioactivity, like he’d just been rolling around in a toxic waste site. His eyes were black and featureless, apart from the pinprick reflections of bioluminescent light that spilled from the upper half of his skull. He looked outright saintly with his outstretched arms and welcoming smile, bathing the grimy floor in a holy radioactive light. In the background, Brianna’s Geiger counter ticked at about ten beats per second. She took a hasty step backwards.

“Hello, wanderers,” Jason greeted. His voice had the tinny, echoing quality of a pre-war robot, setting him apart as something more alien than ghoul. “Please forgive our humble surroundings. Our true home awaits us in the Far Beyond. Have you come to help us complete the Great Journey?”

“If it’s the Great Journey towards going feral, I’d say you’re doing fine on your own,” Brianna replied. “But seriously, what’s everybody smoking in here?”

“You seem confused, friend. Allow me to explain. You see, we wish to escape the barbarity of the wasteland, especially the violence and bigotry of its human inhabitants. People like yourselves are, at best, hopelessly ignorant about our kind, but at worst, their treatment ghouls is often fatal. The Creator has promised my flock a new land, a place of safety and healing, a paradise in the Far Beyond.”

“Well, you seem to have it all figured out. I mean, me and my friend are a little more suited to barbarism, so I guess you need us to do all the dirty work for your Great Journey, right? I swear, nobody out here can fix their own lives. What do you need?”

“I’m afraid you’re exactly right, friend. Preparations for the Great Journey were nearly complete when the demons appeared. Those monsters appeared from nowhere - or, rather, they didn’t appear at all. The demons are invisible. The most you can see is the air shimmering where they stand, like sunlight on water. They set upon us when we were on our way to worship one morning. I’m sure you’ve come across the remnants of that fight. My flock fought bravely, and killed a few, but at such devastating cost. Most of us died or went missing after heading down to the basement.”

“Demons in the basement,” Sunny said, mulling it over for a moment. “Brianna, goddammit, I hate you.”

“The rest of us have retreated up here for safety,” Jason continued. “One of the demons raved at us, but none have tried to attack us since. Still, their demonic presence brings all of our progress to a standstill. But now you have come. Once again, the Creator sends humans to help us across a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. We have laser weapons to spare should you need them, they may assist you better than bullets when it comes to facing the demons. Please, will you help us on our journey to the Great Beyond?”

“This sounds like a great way to get killed,” Sunny remarked. “But not exactly for a bad cause.”

“We were sent out here to make ghouls leave, and that’s what we’re gonna do. In the dumbest fucking way possible. Alright, Jason, we’ll help you. For a laser pistol and a plasma rifle.”

“Oh, praise the Creator - and bless you, wanderers! As soon as the underground has been rid of demons, progress towards the Great Journey can finally resume! Thank you!”

* * *

 

The basement was damp and cold, reeking of engine exhaust and the smell of rotten flesh. When they came across the bloody smear across the floor by the entrance, Sunny let out a panicky laugh that sounded more like a vague cry for help. Their footsteps reverberated off the metal walls; the only light came from Brianna’s Pip-Boy and the soft glow of plasma in her rifle. ED-E’s frightened beep almost gave them both a heart attack, but it was nothing compared to the coronary event she experienced after opening up the metal door ahead.

This time, the nightkin they stumbled across was alive. It towered over the three of them from across the room, a massive bumper sword strapped to its back. In one hand, it clutched what looked to be a sunbleached brahmin skull, cracked but clean. With gritted teeth and heaving breaths, the nightkin’s eyes swept over Brianna and Sunny before returning towards the skull. 

“What’s that, Antler? We have a visitor?” It spat, the gravelly swell of its voice filling up the room. Its eyes once again locked on Brianna. “An assassin, more like!” The creature roared. “I say we kill it! Kill it, Antler, for safe’s sake, kill it!” Just when Brianna thought the nightkin was going to charge, it faltered and turned towards the skull, frowning. “What’s that, Antler? Okay… I’ll ask.” Once again, its attention returned to the intruders. “Uh, hi, humans. Why do you come here?”

“Hey there, buddy.” Brianna gave the nightkin a small wave. “The ghouls upstairs said you were being too rowdy down here. This is the third noise complaint this week, you’re really pushing it.”

“A human who is friend to ghouls? That sounds… suspicious. Antler used intercom, told them to stay put upstairs. Now they give me orders? Tell me what to do? I cannot allow. My kin are not in control of faculties like I am. Attack you on sight. Messy. Your ghoul friends have to wait until you find what Antler wants us to get. Piece of paper, shipment invoice, hundreds of Stealth Boys from very long time ago, that’s what Antler say. We look for it in here.”

“So, if you find the Stealth Boy shipment, you’ll leave the ghouls alone?” Sunny asked. “I mean, uh, I guess I hate the idea of you and your friends taking to the wastes, you know, completely invisible, but, uh… Brianna, help me out here, why is this a good idea?”

“Ignore my friend,” Brianna urged, noticing the sudden intensity of the nightkin’s raspy breathing. “She means well, seriously, but let’s just pretend there isn’t anything wrong with giving giant mutants the power of invisibility. My only question is why you can’t get those things yourself. I mean, look at you, you’re terrifying. I mean it, I’m sweating. A lot, actually.”

“Terrifying, yes. Good, Antler say. But a ghoul keeps us out. Not squishy like you and others. Tough. I thought Antler said  _ send my kin into that room  _ and three died. Ghoul is a crack shot. Sets traps too. After, I realise I heard Antler wrong, so I lock door and keep kin out while I wait for Antler to tell me what to do. Antler now says you are solution. You and friend, find the Stealth Boys, kill the ghoul.”

“If I say no, will you get your, uh, kin, to rip me and my friend into little pieces?”

“Antler says he probably think about it.”

“Then tell Antler that is  _ not  _ the way to make a deal with someone,” Sunny scolded. “How about next time, instead of making threats, you find a common cause with people and help them see your side of things. If you’re really in control of your faculties, start acting like it and cut out all the violent threats when we were already gonna help you in the first place. Now give us the keys before I change my mind about helping you and that brahmin skull of yours.”

For a moment, Brianna was prepared for the nightkin’s bumper sword to swipe Sunny’s head off her shoulders. Instead, it handed over the key to Sunny and said, “Antler tells me to say sorry. Threat of ripping you and friend to pieces… unnecessary. Thank you for help.”

Sunny just looked at the creature for a moment, blank surprise shifting into puffed-up pride. 

“Apology accepted. We’ll come back when we find the Stealth Boy shipment.”

* * *

 

When they stepped over the dead nightkin and unlocked the door ahead, they were greeted by a furious yell of, “Come and get it you big, dumb, ugly-”

The two of them thrust their hands into the air. The ghoul perched on the upper walkway lowered his sniper rifle. “Hey! You’re not one of those ugly bastards out there. Who the hell are you?”

“We’re mutant errand girls, apparently,” Brianna called back, lowering her arms. “Jason sent us down here to deal with your big, dumb, ugly bastard problem.”

“And I bet he told you it’s the Creator’s divine will for you to risk your ass instead of him, right?”

“It’s no big deal, we’re here to help out a third party - you know, a human one. Payment is pretty much guaranteed if we help your people off to the Great Beyond or whatever the fuck. We come in peace and everything, mind if we just move past you? How’d you get trapped up here, anyway?”

“Huh. Nice to see I’m not the only one around here who could care less about Jason’s religious mumbo-jumbo. And I’m not trapped, alright? This is a defensive location and I’m defending it, set up a nice little kill zone to fend off those monsters and - aw, who am I kiddin’? I’m trapped as hell. Name’s Harland, by the way. Got a little too big for my boots, tried to fight off those things and there ended up being a few more than I thought. Now I’m here. Pleased to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Sunny replied. “I’m Sunny Smiles, this is Brianna and ED-E. I think we could help you get out of here if you wanted. Not that it isn’t a nice place, but, you know… it isn’t.”

Harland gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that, stranger. Look, if this was just between you and me, I’d head along with you. But it isn’t. I had a friend with me when I came in here, before everything went to shit. When the mutants came, she panicked and went the wrong way, even further into the basement. I know she’s probably dead already, but I ain’t leaving until I know for sure.”

“Sorry to hear about your friend,” Sunny replied. “I wish we could help, but we’re trying to stay out of trouble with those things. They’re looking for a cache of Stealth Boys that might be in here, if they get what they’re after, they’ll go. Mind if we have a look around?”

“Actually, I do. Don’t look at me like that, smoothskin, you really think I’d be sticking around in here if I had something to turn me invisible? I’m not letting go of this position when it’s the only thing still keeping me alive, and you haven’t got a hope in hell of unsetting those traps without sticking your foot right in ‘em.” He paused for a moment. “But a favour might change my mind.”

“Listen, pal, we’ve been doing more than enough ‘favours’ today for every mutant bastard this side of Goodsprings,” Brianna shot back. “Oh, make the nightkin go away so we can complete our spiritual journey,” she mocked. “Oh, wait, find a bunch of Stealth Boys for my freak mutant family instead. Oh, no, how about, go and find my dead friend so I can move out of your way and let you go and do the thing that’s gonna make everybody happy and alive? Jesus Christ, is it the radiation that’s making you all this fucking difficult?”

“You might wanna reconsider your tone there, smoothskin.”

“Listen to me, asshole, very carefully. There is not one single chance of me going any further into that Hell Basement, not even if you paid me in a lifetime supply of Sunset Sarsaparilla and Gomorrah hookers. It’s not happening, I’m not going, we’re not negotiating, understand?”

“Oh, I understand just fine. Now head off while I take a nap, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

 

Brianna’s heart thumped in her throat as they headed further into the basement. Her muscles still sang with the residual anger of her confrontation with Harland, but the terror spiking in her stomach outweighed her hatred for stubborn ghouls with sniper rifles. Her eyes never strayed from her Pip-Boy map long, but every time she spotted the red blip of a nearby enemy, it was gone by the time she did a double take. The darkness was becoming suffocating, made even worse by the creaking walkways and constant hum of generators. By the time they reached one of the more spacious rooms, she was convinced that the walls were closing in around her.

And then she caught the air shimmering, like sunlight on water.

“Shit,” she hissed, stepping back against the wall and watching the red dot on her Pip-Boy align with the distortion in the air. If she strained her ears and tried to slow her heavy breathing, she could just about hear the mutant’s footfall as it patrolled the walkways. She began to wonder if she could figure out the direction it was facing, sneak up behind it with her axe and rid the world of its hideous existence before it even knew she was there. She relayed this plan directly into Sunny’s ear, not daring to raise her voice beyond the barest hint of a whisper. Her friend’s face grew pale but she nodded in agreement. All they needed was a quick distraction to guarantee the nightkin’s line of sight.

With matching expressions of guilt, they both looked at ED-E.

There was nothing left to do but make it work. Brianna crept slowly along the wall, wincing at every soft creak of the walkway as ED-E floated in the direction of the stealthed-out mutant. After a few more gut-twisting seconds, all three of them were aligned in place: Brianna by the nearest door, ED-E parallel to the invisible nightkin as it headed towards the eastern side of the room, and Sunny crouching down by the entryway with her laser pistol trained on the seemingly empty space. ED-E’s battle music blew a hole through the silence. There was a guttural cry of anger as the mutant charged towards him. Brianna belted across the walkway and swung her axe hard, feeling it bite through flesh only for a moment before an invisible blow knocked her flying.

Her head smacked against the wall. Glowing red flashes cut through the darkness as Sunny blasted through the mutant with her pistol, ED-E doing the same as he whizzed around the creature as fast as he could. All Brianna could do was struggle to her feet and pray the Stealth Boy wouldn’t last much longer, as she swung once more into the shimmering air. The distortion moved to and fro as if the mutant couldn’t decide whether to face Brianna or take down the infuriating battle robot first. She took advantage of its hesitation and made a swift downward arc with the fire axe, drawing out a cry that she hoped was from pain and not anger. While Sunny edged away from cover to get a steadier aim on the nightkin, Brianna swapped out her fire axe for her plasma rifle and punched a burning hole through what she imagined was the monster’s stomach. 

It wasn’t enough. The nightkin delivered a colossal blow that knocked the breath from her lungs, cracking ribs on her way back down to the floor. Gritting her teeth in agony, she clambered for her fallen rifle, a spike of pain shooting through her chest. She squared her aim and pulled the trigger, sending three glowing waves of plasma in the nightkin’s direction as she struggled to her feet. The nightkin released a roar of anger and, from what she could tell, swung a fist in ED-E’s direction. The robot scooted aside with a half second to spare, as pesky and quick as a fly. He sent a burst of lasers towards the mutant while Sunny did the same, leaving just enough time for Brianna to empty out the plasma cartridge into its concealed midsection. The nightkin made a low rasping sound, something that might have been a growl if it wasn’t so contorted with pain. 

Brianna felt a rush of victory, too short-lived to hang on to. While she reloaded her rifle, she swore she caught a glimpse of the raging mutant drawing the bumper sword from its back. Then it was gone. She pumped another two rounds of plasma in its direction. It flickered into eyesight again, all gnashing teeth and rage, levelling the weight of the massive sword. Gone. When it flashed into visibility once more, the thing was charging straight at her. Brianna threw herself back against the wall and felt the skin on her cheek open up like a splitting grin. The invisible cloak melted off the mutant just in time for her to watch it take another swing. She sidestepped the blow a few seconds too late. She felt the blood before the pain, sealing her right eye shut. No time to think. She dropped the rifle. Took a few frantic steps back as the towering nightkin roared into full view. She grabbed her axe and waited for the incoming blow. The nightkin cried out and swung hard. She dropped low, and buried the blade into its leg. 

The creature roared. Its knees buckled. Brianna tugged with all her strength and withdrew the axe from the mutant’s flesh. After an agonised gulp for air, she steeled herself and skewered the nightkin right through the skull. Thick, dark blood dribbled out from the gash, pulsing and sputtering down the monster’s head when she pulled the weapon back and watched the creature’s body drop to the ground with a heavy thud. Gasping for air, ribs aching, blood spilling down her face, Brianna backed up against the door and shut her eyes to fight off the incoming dizziness.

“Reminds me of one time in Germantown,” she slurred, stomach twisting with the roll of nausea that burst forth. “Don’t think my ribs ever recovered.”

“Alright, no time to pass out on me just yet,” Sunny said, holstering her pistol and supporting Brianna on one side. “No time to get you patched up, either. “Just, uh, stay awake and act like my human compass, here, show me your Pip-Boy. All we have to do is run by the rest of them while ED-E distracts, right? Easy as pie. Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

 

To both of their surprise, they found the missing ghoul alive. After using every possible distraction to sneak their way past the nightkin, including throwable objects such as discarded cups, canned food and ED-E, they managed to limp their way through to the cells where they found the woman locked up and hyperventilating. She was covered in nasty bruises and gashes, but looked as alive as a ghoul possibly could. Though she wasn’t injured enough to need carried back to Harland, she was certainly banged up enough to make a fuss about it all until they found their way back to the kill zone.

“Well, holy shit.” Harland spent a few more seconds looking at the terrified - but very much relieved - ghoul through his scope, as if trying to make sure she wasn’t a hallucination. “I thought I’d never see that crooked yellow smile again. Charlotte, I’m giving you full permission to kick my ass for bringing you down there with me.”

“You know I’d love to, Harley,” his friend rasped, “but I think we’re both in too bad a shape for that.”

“Come on, get yourself up here through that staircase to the right, watch out for all the traps. How the hell are you-? No, you know what, spare me the details. I’m just glad you’re alright.” As Charlotte gave Sunny and Brianna some final quick words of gratitude, Harland returned his attention to the pair of them. “Thank you, strangers. I never prepared myself for anything but bad news. We’re gonna make a break for topside, go ahead and snoop around all you want in here, I won’t bother you.”

“Thanks for saving my ass back there!” Charlotte called down when she reached the upper walkways. “Never thought two smoothskins could start lookin’ like a dream come true!”

As soon as the two of them headed off, Brianna and Sunny got to work out back searching for the Stealth Boy shipment. They rooted through every cupboard and cabinet, searched around the walkways and storage cabinets, tore their hair out looking for a box that might contain hundreds of visual distortion devices, but all they came up with was dustballs and junk. Giving up, Brianna began to browse through the files on one of the few working terminals upstairs in search of some more information. She felt her heart drop into her stomach.

_ REPCONN Inter-Office Correspondence  _

_ #3486209 _

_ To: RobCo HQ Supply Department _

_ From: Sanjeev Rajan, REPCONN Custodian _

_ Hi RobCo Supply, _

_ We are sending back two (2) crates of devices labelled “StealthBoys” back to you. According to the manifest, each crate contained one gross (144) of the devices. As a result of employee misbehavior (not mine!!), one crate was opened and is missing five (5). In light of these upsetting events involving the “StealthBoys” all employees have hereby been directed to thoroughly review REPCONN’s sexual harassment and workplace privacy policies. Sorry about that, RobCo. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Sanjeev Rajan, REPCONN Custodian _

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Brianna said, gesturing for Sunny to read the correspondence.

"Yeah, that sexual harassment thing is gross," Sunny replied, frowning at the screen. "Hope those assholes got fired." Straightening herself up and looking a lot more pleased than Brianna felt, she continued,  “No Stealth Boys here after all, then. I mean, that’s gotta be a good thing, right? It just means we aren’t giving super deadly mutants the ability to camouflage out in the desert.”

“I’ll keep telling myself that when the crazy nightkin is snapping the arms off my body and smacking me across the face with them.”

“Okay, uh, let’s not go that far. Yet. Can you download that message on your Pip-Boy?”

“Sure I can. The question is, can the nightkin read?”

* * *

“Hey, calm down, I’m being serious, they aren’t here!”

“LIAR!” The mutant roared. “Antler read the invoice, says Stealth Boys are here!”

“Look, look,” she urged, offering up her arm so it could read the message on her Pip-Boy. “See, this explains what happened. The Stealth Boys were shipped here by accident, then sent back.”

The nightkin grabbed her arm so hard that it almost popped out of the socket. Smothering a whimper of pain, she screwed her eyes shut and listened to the mutant grunt and complain. After a moment, he threw her arm back at her.

“Your lucky day, human. Antler believe your note. Nightkin will follow the new message and find Stealth Boys. Better be there.”

“And what do you say to the people who helped you?” Sunny prompted.

“Thank you, humans. Antler say thank you for help.”

* * *

 

After explaining the situation to Jason and suffering through an extremely grateful embrace, all that was left to do was follow him and the rest of the ghouls back through the basement. The crazy nightkin had been true to his word and left the facility along with his kin. Now, the only mutants down here were either dark blue and dead, or dressed up in space explorer outfits and heading single-file down the narrow walkways and corridors. Brianna was starting to suspect that their destination would be an underground chem lab, but with the ridiculous pre-war spaceman outfits donned by the excited ghouls, a hidden rocketship or two wouldn’t have surprised her.

As it turned out, there were three.

ED-E let out an impressed beep as Brianna and Sunny gawked from behind the protective glass window in the underground lab. The rockets below were straight out of a pre-war advertisement for kids’ cereal, a little too reminiscent of the plastic figurines back at the Dino-Bite Gift Shop. Jason Bright looked serene as he gazed out towards the aircraft, the three rockets guarded by a handful of ferals who seemed to enjoy soaking up the radiation that was spilling out of the surrounding glowing barrels. They barely reacted towards the regular ghouls who descended towards the ships, every half-decayed head protected by the glass domes of their helmets.

“Please, wanderers, I want you to know that we will remember your acts of kindness and generosity for the rest of eternity,” Jason promised, sounding sincere enough to take the edge of craziness out of everything they saw around them. “It was you who delivered us to the threshold of the Great Journey.” As he spoke, the only other human in the facility stepped in, ticking off items on a list as he went along. “As we make our final preparations for the journey ahead, we invite you to witness our ascension into the Far Beyond. Once Chris has finished his work, we’ll be ready.”

With that, he gave them both a short bow and joined his people in the radioactive pit below. Brianna glanced at Chris, now finished with whatever observations he’d been making about the rockets.

“Hey, not to be super negative or anything,” Sunny said, “but you know you’re gonna be radioactive toast if you go down there with the rest of them, right?”

“What?” He snapped, in a clear, human voice before hastily returning to raspiness. “I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about, human. I’m here to check up on the rockets and make sure everything’s intact while Jason gives his speech, then I’m heading down there too. Now, quiet. He’s starting.”

Sunny gave him a pitiful look before turning back towards the gathering of ghouls.

“Gather all!” Jason called. “May The Creator guide my words and help me speak true! The almighty Creator has seen fit to answer our prayers. The time has come for us to board these rockets and begin the Great Journey, at last.”

“Are they crazy?” Sunny whispered. “They’ll die in those things!”

“Though it may seem that all humans despise us, The Creator has seen fit to instruct us differently. The journey ahead would have been impossible were it not for the noble and kind intervention of our benevolent human friends - some newly discovered, the other, a long-abiding companion. To our new friends, we give our undying thanks and promise to never forget your assistance in ridding this place of the demons who threatened our path.”

“You’re welcome,” Brianna muttered. “Nice to know you’re all gonna blow yourselves up anyway.”

“And as for Chris, well… we owe him more than thanks. Chris, you have made this Great Journey a reality. From this moment forward, you will be remembered as a Saint to the Great Journey, our unwavering guide to the Far Beyond! We will never forget you, Chris. The final thing we could ask of you now is that you forgive us, and offer us your blessing, as we bestow ours upon you.”

Brianna glanced at Chris, who was staring blankly at the intercom. Dumb surprise shifted to alarm, to horror, to rage. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the anger melted into sorrow. 

“My God, you were right all along,” he said, voice still gravelly and rough. He looked down at his hands, turned them in front of his face. “God, look at me. I’m no ghoul. All this time, they were just using me!”

“A mirror would’ve dealt with that problem,” Brianna pointed out. 

“They’d take you if they could,” Sunny assured him, “but you wouldn’t last a minute down there.”

“And you think dying would be worse than how I feel right now?” He snapped. “Used up and thrown out like a piece of garbage? All this, so I could be their redemption of mankind? What a crock of shit. I should have known, I should have known it all along, they used me. God, this is exactly like living back in the Vault, being their fucking Nuclear Reactor Technician. Oh, I bet Chris won’t mind all the radioactivity down there. Hey, I bet Chris would  _ love it  _ if his hair and teeth started falling out - better him than us!”

“What is there to say?” Brianna replied. “Ghouls are assholes, Vault Dwellers are assholes, doesn’t get much better than that. "

 

"But you’re not that bad of a guy," Sunny said. "There’s human life just down the road from here, you’ve got your chance to start over again. It’s not perfect, but it sure beats slipping on a nuclear barrel of skin cancer. Plus, you get to be Saint Chris. Not the worst title.”

“Life among humans again, is that what you’re trying to tell me?” He paused for a moment, brows furrowed as he considered it. “You know, I guess you’re right. Not much of an option, really. Maybe it’ll be different this time. I never got to be a Saint until now.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sunny encouraged. “We’ll head with you to Novac if you want.”

“Don’t worry about me, smoothskin - or, uh, whatever the hell you’re called. I’ll make it down myself, you should stay and watch the rocket launch. I’m sure Jason will have you press the big red button anyway."

* * *

 

Brianna took the heart-shaped sunglasses off ED-E’s front and put them on her face as they watched the rockets lift up from the underground laboratory. The domed part of the building opened up in true pre-war science fiction style, plunging the rockets into daylight to a swelling instrumental that played from the radio in the viewing booth.

“This is the time to begin our Great Journey at last, friends,” crackled Jason’s voice from the intercom. “Once again, we give you our unwavering blessings and thanks. Is Chris with you?”

“Chris is off having a crisis because you used him like a piece of garbage,” Brianna accused, before realising she hadn’t pressed the button to speak into the intercom. She held it down and said, “Yeah, Chris is here. He’s tearing up a little, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Good luck on your journey,” Sunny added, lips pursing with worry as she looked out towards the rockets. “One of the reasons I came out here was to find people with purpose, people to believe in. If you guys really blast off in those things today, I’ll believe in anything.”

“I sincerely hope you find what you’re looking for, friends. You especially, Chris. Thank you.”

“He’s getting really choked up,” Brianna said quickly, “but he’s rooting for you. See you on the other side, Jason. Hopefully it’s a little brighter where you’re going.”

The intercom gave an understanding crackle and fell silent. Brianna placed her hand on the red lever at the centre of the control panel. Sunny set her own hand on top. Together, they slammed it down. The sound of firecrackers exploded in her ears. There was a flash of smoke and sparks like a magician’s disappearing act. The twin rockets on the left of the launch pad jolted to life and thundered into the air, their paths parallel and their smoke trails intertwining. The third rocket was a little less certain, jolting perilously off-course. Sunny and Brianna scurried back as it veered sharply towards the observation deck. With half a second to spare, the rocket realigned with the others and shot up into the air and out of sight, rallied onwards by the dramatic music and ecstatic cheers from Sunny and Brianna. ED-E gave a triumphant beep and twirled in the air. 

“I never meet anyone normal,” she said, letting Sunny pull her into a hug. “How about you?”


	6. Chapter 6

_ “Did you see that, listeners? Out near Novac and all across the orange-coloured sky, three rocketships blasted off into the air like bullets from a rifle. According to the town’s local crackpot, the unidentified aircraft belonged to religious ghouls seeking a place of acceptance. I know we all dream of havin’ someplace to call our own, listeners, but the source of this rumour threatened to kill your favourite radio host with a magic spell taught to him by a cave rat. But you saw the smoke trails, didn’t you? You saw them, and for a moment, you believed in something bigger than yourself. You might pretend it was all in your head, but as Billy Mayhew once sang… It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie.” _

* * *

 

The sniper they ran into on the road back to Novac was not the same sniper who’d sent them to REPCONN. Brianna's initial instinct when she saw the rifle trained on her from just off the road was to throw herself behind Sunny, but the stranger lowered his aim the second she noticed him, shouldering the weapon and heading towards them. Despite the slight stoop in his shoulders, he was tall enough to cast a cool shadow over the pair of them. Though his t-shirt had faded from white to grey and his boots brandished some questionable stains, he was clean-shaven from his beret-clad head to the wide bulk of his jaw, pasty white skin glowing like a star beneath the burning sunlight.

“What are you doing in Novac, strangers?”

Brianna looked him up and down, raising a pointed eyebrow towards his sunglasses. “Damn, I’ve got my shades on and everything but I still can’t see why that’s any of your business.”

“We don’t get a lot of newcomers out here,” he replied, in the same flat and toneless voice as before. 

“We heard a lot of good things about the dinosaur. Now, I’m gonna cross my fingers that you’re just out here for some fresh air, because the last time someone tracked me down, they shot me two times in the head. I get a little antsy every time I meet annoying strangers now.”

The stranger folded his arms, quiet for a moment before he replied, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better I don’t know anything about you. I need someone to trust out here and you two are strangers, that’s a start.”

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you about trusting strangers?” Sunny asked. “Not that we aren’t the most trustworthy you’ll find. But you got lucky.”

“Then I need you to find something out for me - if there’s anything to find. The people in this town can’t look me in the eye anymore. I think they’re just waiting for the day I disappear. Right now, I need the kind of help I can only get from an outsider. They won’t know what to make of you.”

“This is getting a little intense,” Brianna pointed out. “I’m still on a high from the whole rocketship launching thing we just did.”

“Wait, did you even see any of that?” Sunny asked. “There’s no way you-”

“I don’t care,” the stranger spat. “The only damn thing I care about is that my wife was taken by Legion slavers while I was on watch. If that doesn’t interest you, then walk away.”

“Oh, shit. How can we help?” Sunny asked, her expression suddenly serious.

“Good. I didn’t think you had anything to do with those bastards, but it’s nice to be sure. Those Legion fucks knew when to come and what route to take. And they took Carla. Only her.  It was planned, it was careful. Someone set it up. I don’t who.”

“How long ago? Brianna, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and two holes in your head, but we could track her down if it isn’t too far out of the way.”

“My wife is dead.” 

Sunny’s determination melted away, fists unclenching, face falling. “I’m so sorry,” she offered. “Are you sure she’s-? If she was taken prisoner, how can you-?”

“I just know, okay?” He snapped. “Carla’s dead and I want the son of a bitch who sold her.”

“That’ll be fun to narrow down,” Brianna replied, heart still thumping from the certainty of his wife’s fate. She’d performed plenty of shotgun surgeries on bad people before, but there were some things you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, especially after what they’d seen in Nipton. “From what I’ve seen, everyone in that town is about as shady as a pair of sunglasses.”

“I don’t care how long it takes. Whoever it is, bring him out front of the dinosaur while I’m on duty. I work nights, so wait until it’s dark. Better that way. I’ll give you my NCR beret to wear. That’ll be our signal so I know the person you’re standing with is him. I’ll take care of the rest.” Brianna swore she could hear him gritting his teeth. “We probably shouldn’t speak again until after this is over. Mention my name to people if you have to, but don’t make it obvious that I know she’s been sold off. Nobody knows that I’ve figured out what happened.”

“We’ll handle it.” Brianna took the beret when he offered it. “And if we don’t, well…”

“We will,” Sunny assured him. “And we’ll see you tonight.”

* * *

 

“Hope you enjoyed the view,” Brianna said when she returned to the sniper den. She’d left Sunny and ED-E to their own devices, trusting them to start asking around about Carla while she dealt with Manny Vargas. “Would you believe me if I said those rockets were blasting your REPCONN ghouls into religious paradise?”

“After seeing those things blast off into the sky, you could tell me the moon is made of Mentats and I think I’d believe you.” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and beaming, clearly delighted that she’d returned at all from the facility. “You know, I had a good feeling about you. You look like you’ve been through a lot, maybe more than just bullets, too.”

“Believe me, buddy, you don’t know the half of it."

“And you don’t have to tell me about it, don’t worry. I did a little digging on the guy you’re looking for. He’s running with some members of my old gang, heading for Boulder City. Fair warning though, whatever you’re getting yourself involved in, it’s gotta be bad if the Great Khans are tied in. Doesn’t get any badder than them, I promise you.”

"Did a little digging," she snorted, "that's funny. Look, I had anything else going for me right now, maybe I’d reconsider. But that fucker’s head is gonna be my one-way ticket to an easier life. You’ve gotta understand what I’m talking about, right? I mean, you went from the Great Khans to the NCR, you must know something about trying to be better."

“Damn right, and I wouldn’t trade all that for anything, even if I do miss Red Rock Canyon every now and then. But you’re right, I do know what you’re talking about. Sometimes the worst ideas seems pretty sensible when you’re the only thing you’ve got. I’m happy I could help you.”

“Me too. I mean, forget the info, watching those crazy ghouls blast off into the sky was worth every painful second.” She smiled wistfully, looking out at the flat desert horizon for a moment before asking her next question. “Hey, I know you’ve done a lot for me already, but I was wondering if you knew anything about the woman who went missing here a while ago. Carol or something, right?”

“Carla,” he corrected, as the humour drained from his face. “When I heard the news that the girl was gone, my first thought was that I owe somebody big time. You know I’ve got a history with gangs. See, me and my cousins were a few bad seeds up in North Vegas before I enlisted with the NCR, but I went and  _ earned  _ my future, and you can bet I don’t feel one bit guilty about settling down here, enjoying the easy life. Boone and I, we were… close. I invited him to Novac, wanted him to be a part of that future too. But his wife was just too damn good for it.”

“How do you mean?” She asked, brows furrowing. It was strange to see the sniper’s easy-going demeanour harden instantly at the mention of Boone’s wife, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from being honest. Brianna didn’t want to believe it was anything more than that, but sometimes people talked a little too much to make it seem like they were giving away everything.

“She was a rich city girl who thought she was above the quiet lifestyle here. Boone and I just wanted a place where the world could go by without our involvement. She wanted to take him away from me- away from it, I mean. The town, the lifestyle. She got what she wanted. Boone hasn’t said a word to me since she left, or disappeared, or wherever the hell she’s gone. Hopefully to hell.”

Brianna chewed on that information for a moment, her tone conspiratorial when she spoke again.  “You know I got shot in the head by one of those uptight inner city pricks, same breed as Carla. I’ve lived in New Vegas and I’ve lived in Freeside, trust me, I know the difference between regular people and those neon-blinded fucks who think they’re so much bigger than the rest of us. If you arranged to get rid of Carla, I understand. Why let somebody that entitled get in the way of a life you built all by yourself?”

The sniper narrowed his eyes, allowing himself an uneasy smile that quickly flickered away. “I didn't kill Boone’s wife,” he said. “I didn’t do a thing to her, as much as I wanted to. Bitch or not, she’s my best friend’s wife. Or she was. I never touched her. Why the hell are you asking anyway?”

“Because this town reeks with one nasty little secret, and I’m curious to find out what it is. Nothing personal, I’ve never even met Boone. Just heard some whispers, thought maybe there’d be caps involved if I brought the girl back. Preferably alive, but if she’s as bad as you say…”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t cross my fingers for that either. I’m know Boone would pay whatever he has to get his wife back again, or at least to know what happened. But I’m asking you as a friend, as someone who’s helped you out today: please leave him alone. Let him grieve and move on, he’ll realise what they had together was worthless, she would have destroyed him. And for the love of God, don’t give him hope that you’ll find that bitch alive. Even a slaver wouldn’t put up with her whining long enough to make any use of her. The girl’s dead and buried. Let her stay that way.”

* * *

 

All they discovered after hours of asking questions was that nobody seemed to like Boone’s wife. Noses wrinkled and eyes darted the moment they mentioned her name. They would mutter something about city folk acting like they were too damn good for everyone else. Regardless of what she told Manny, Brianna didn’t really share the sentiment. City folk were well known for having too much money and getting shot in the squishy parts, and it was the rural dwellers who were bored and bitter enough to die fighting.  Town folk, on the other hand, were just smug and full of secrets, too proud to farm and too poor to gamble, so they got their kicks out of scandals, scamming, and knowing everybody else’s business.

Except for when the business involved Legion slavers in the dead of night. 

When they questioned the town crackpot, it soon became clear that this guy was either playing stupid, or too damn obvious to have any involvement with Carla’s disappearance. They ran into him outside the dinosaur where they’d been questioning Cliff Briscoe to no avail - the man was too fixated with toy figurines and the price of useless knick-knacks to waste a day on a slave trade.

“Who sent you?!” The stranger barked, all wild eyes and a featureless gaping mouth nearly lost behind a shock of white beard. “I ain’t talkin’! They tried to make me talk before but I ain’t said a damn thing, don’t aim to now either, by gum!” 

Brianna wiped his spit off her face while Sunny asked, “Who tried to make you talk?”

“Confound it, No-Bark, you’ve done it again,” he lamented, knocking at his own skull like he was trying to shake some cobwebs loose. “Now they’ll never let you be.” He scurried back and pulled out a filthy kitchen knife from a holster on his thigh. “Alright, that’s it. You come any closer and I’m- well, I’m liable to stick you with my stickin’ knife. Ol’ Sticky’s feelin’ restless!”

“You come anywhere near me with that rusty piece of crap and I’ll harvest your organs for the Moon Men or whoever the hell is whispering in your head,” Brianna threatened.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” No-Bark shoved the sticking knife back into its holster. “Don’t do anythin’ to me - and stay away from my face if you’re gonna take a swing. All I got left is my rugged good looks. What do you want from old No-Bark anyways?”

“Just a little information at no personal cost. Have you noticed anybody actin' strange, recently?”

“Strange? I don’t trust a man who don’t have somethin’ strange goin’ on about him, ‘cause it means he’s hidin’ it. If a man’s wearin’ his underpants on his head, or if he tells his secrets to a brahmin skull from time to time, you know it’s all laid out there in front of y’. But if he ain't, t hen you know he’s done somethin’ even his own ma couldn’t forgive. Like that man who showed up here in his checkered coat. Camouflage, it was. Tryin’ to hide from the extra-terrestrials he’d done wrong, aliens who can only see in full colour.” He continued to ramble, unaware or uninterested in Brianna’s sudden investment in the situation. “But they won’t be fooled, ‘cause he forgot to put the checkers on his face.”

“Did you ever talk to him?” 

“Sure did, told him about the problem with his checkers. He seemed to take it to heart, but I’m not sure…” He paused for a moment, looking around in search of eavesdroppers. “Shadowy folk came to that lady’s room and left again in the dead of night, might have been followin’ the trail of the checkered man. Thought one of ‘em might have gone into the lobby too for a spell.”

Brianna shook her head in disbelief. “Crazy how you ended up being the most useful person we’ve talked to today. 

“Ain’t nothin’ crazy about it,” he scolded. “Crazy’s just when normal starts takin’ notice of things. You think about that.”

She promised him she would, even when he delivered his thanks to ED-E instead of her. As he shuffled off, grumbling something about molerat men and robots using sunglasses to hide their tragic history, Sunny and Brianna headed off in the direction of the lobby to do a little more snooping.

The only thing she could say about Jeannie May Crawford was that her voice challenged the frequency of a dying bloatfly. She didn’t give away any new information about Carla, but seemed her hate her about as much as everyone else did, and for the exact same reasons. 

“How do I put this?” The motel owner wondered, tapping a skeletal finger against her chin. “She was sort of like a cactus flower. Pretty to look at, impossible to get close to. Never did take to living here either. She liked the bright lights and fast living of New Vegas.” A disapproving sneer creased her face even further. “But why the curiosity, outsiders?”

“Oh, we were just thinkin’ about renting a room here for a couple days,” Sunny replied with a smile. “We travel around a lot, heard Novac was quiet and peaceful to stop in a little while." Her bright-eyed expression gave way to concern as she continued, “Then we started hearing about that poor woman who disappeared. We’d just like to know that it wasn’t anything… well, you know, to do with the town. That she just ran off all on her own. I’d hate to stay somewhere where the people keep quiet about things like this.”

The old woman cooed in understanding. “Well, I am truly sorry on behalf of this little town that you’ve had to worry about its reputation,” she assured them, taking Sunny’s hand from across the counter and giving it a sincere squeeze. “I’ll be honest, there was never any grand search party for Carla, because everybody already knows what happened to the girl.”

“And what was that?”

“That she took off in the dead of night and left her husband behind,” she scolded. “Always felt like she was too good for this place, and eventually she stopped waiting around for her husband to agree with her. Good riddance, I say. I’ll bet the girl’s already halfway back to Vegas. That place is Hell on Earth, I’m tellin’ you. Sin and debauchery of that kind, it’s good for a weekend, not a lifestyle.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” Brianna replied, freezing a smile on her face. “How much for a room?”

* * *

 

Sunny Smiles refused to accept what Manny Vargas had done to Carla. They spent close to a half hour arguing about in the motel room, Sunny insisting they should investigate Jeannie May further while Brianna just laughed the idea away. All signs pointed to the ex-Khan who was smitten with the night-time sniper, especially with the rumours stirring that the Great Khans were licking Caesar’s jackboots from across the desert. Since Benny and his bodyguards had already departed from Novac, they didn’t have time to waste on trying to frame a judgemental old lady.

While Jeannie May headed home that night, Sunny disappeared into the lobby with ED-E to look for more evidence. Brianna napped for a half hour to try and ease her headache, then found Manny’s hotel room and battered on the door until it swung open.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell’s the matter?” Manny asked, voice thick with sleep as he rubbed his squinting eyes. He was dressed in nothing but a Dinky the Dinosaur tourist t-shirt and a pair of grey boxer shorts that had seen better, whiter days. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?”

“There’s something you need to see in front of the dinosaur,” she blurted, dressed down in an old t-shirt and some pyjama shorts with the ace of spades printed on the butt. Her hair was wild and her eyes frantic like she’d just been woken too. “I know that old man No-Bark is crazy,” she rambled, “but I heard this kind of- I don’t know, this  _ flesh ripping  _ noise outside and I remembered some stuff he mentioned about the chupacabra and Jesus Christ, just come with me, please, I’m sorry, you have to see this, I’m sorry.”

He looked at for a moment, nonplussed, before shaking himself and taking action. “Alright, let me grab my rifle and I’ll-”

“No, don’t, there’s- there’s nothing left to kill, it’s pointless, just hurry up, come with me.”

As they raced towards the dinosaur, Brianna slipped on the NCR beret in her back pocket.

The night was black. The air was heavy. The rifle jutted out from between two of the dinosaur’s flaking white teeth. There was nothing to see in front of the dinosaur.

“What is this?” Manny asked, searching her face for an explanation. “I don’t understand.”

She opened her mouth to say she was sorry. She met his eyes. She found something strange approaching from around the corner. For a wild second, she thought it might have been the chupacabra. She waited for the gunshot. The figure came closer. Two of them. Sunny Smiles with a face like thunder, arm locked tight around Jeannie May Crawford. Sunny’s eyes were blazing hot - she’d found evidence.

Brianna looked at Manny Vargas and saw her dawning terror mirrored in his face.

A gunshot splintered the silence. She threw her arms around Manny’s neck and pinned him to the ground, sheltering his body as if from an explosion. Sunny cried out,  _ “Wait!”  _ and threw Jeannie May Crawford in front of the dinosaur. Brianna tossed Sunny the NCR beret. She secured it to her head, stepped back from the quivering old woman, and gave a confident nod to the mouth of the dinosaur.

And Jeannie May’s head burst like a grape.

“Holy shit!” Manny cried, scurrying out of Brianna’s grip and stumbling back from the blood-soaked pair as they gaped in awe at the wreckage they'd made of a little old lady. Her headless body twitched at their feet, brown smock saturated with blood, bony hands grasping for purchase on the dirt.

“How did you know?” Brianna gasped, heart thumping with a sudden unbridled energy.

With a stony expression, Sunny dug into her back pocket and produced a crumpled note.

_ We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from Jeannie May Crawford of the township of Novac, the exclusive rights to ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone for the sum of one thousand bottle caps, and those of her unborn child for the sum of five hundred bottle caps, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged. We warrant the slave and her young to be sound, healthy and slaves for life. Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps with be ensured to said Jeannie May Crawford pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document. M. Scribonius Libo Drusus et al. _

_ Administrators of M. Licinius Crassus, Consul Officiorum ab Famalatus. _

“That nasally, uptight piece of shit.” Brianna crumpled the letter in her fist. “Where did you find it?”

“Tucked into a whole bunch of blank files,” Sunny replied. “Glad I could trust you to wait for me.”

“Is it a good time to say I’m really, really sorry?”

“Tell it to Manny first, you can make it up to me after we talk to Boone. Wait, give me the letter,” she said on an afterthought, her voice lowering slightly as she glanced up at the dinosaur. “If he didn’t already know she was pregnant, I don’t think we should tell him.”

Brianna muttered her agreement, distracted by the blood pulsing out of Jeannie May’s crumpled body, and the sniper who was still gaping at them in want of an explanation.

“Hey, uh, how about you buy yourself a drink on me?” Brianna suggested, fishing out some caps from her pocket and putting them in Manny’s hand. “Consider it an apology from someone who tried to have your head blown off because I thought you sold Carla."

“Wait -  _ sold?”  _ He echoed. “It was bad enough you thought I killed her. I’m NCR, you think I had anything to do with those Legion fucks?”

“Okay, I know my friend is an idiot,” Sunny replied, “but the NCR aren’t squeaky clean either.”

“I gotta admit, I was a little hung up on the ex-gang member thing, I’m sorry. Shit, I’m really sorry. You need me to launch more ghouls into space to make it up to you? Here, buy another drink, something that’ll really blow your head off. Jesus Christ, that was a bad choice of words.”

“I just… I think I need some time to catch my breath,” he replied, ignoring her second offering of caps and turning to Sunny instead. “I owe you one, stranger. You cleared my name in this town, in front of the only person who matters to me out here. Thank you. Let’s never meet again.”

* * *

 

“That’s it then,” Boone said, looking just as tense and miserable as he had when they’d met, like he hadn’t just avenged his dead wife with a .308 calibre bullet. “How did you know?”

“We found the bill of sale,” Sunny replied, her face a little pale beneath the glow of moonlight. Her jaw was set, her eyes dark and her legs noticeably fidgety as she tucked the note a little deeper into her back pocket, out of the sniper’s sight. Brianna suspected her discomfort had nothing to do with being one of three people squished tight into the dinosaur’s mouth.

“Then what the hell was all the confusion down there?” He asked, turning his head towards Brianna. She couldn’t see his narrowed eyes from behind the dark sunglasses, but she still felt it like a nasty heat rash in a hard-to-reach spot. “I almost shot the wrong man. A good man. I would have done it in a second. Thought it was Manny since the start. I was wrong.”

“So was I,” Brianna confessed, reaching around in her pockets for a stray cigarette. As she lit it up, the glow cast a warm amber light across each of their faces. She thought of campfires. She thought of a hole blasted through the skull of an innocent man. “Manny told me about the way you two argued about Carla, how he used to run with the Khans, it just added up. And then it didn’t.”

“Do you have any idea why Jeannie-May wanted to do something like that to your wife?” Sunny asked, misery painted across every down-turned feature of her face.

“No, I don’t. And it doesn’t matter now. Our business is done here. I hid the caps behind the counter downstairs. Nothing much.”

“I guess you can’t stay here anymore, huh? What are you gonna do now?”

“Hunt legionnaires,” he stated simply. “Can’t see much point in anything else.”

Sunny and Brianna exchanged glances. Brianna tried to muster up a sense of  _ don’t go doing that thing you’re about to do  _ with just a pointed look, but it didn’t seem to come across enough, because Sunny returned her attention to the sniper and asked, “You wanna come with us?”

“You don’t want that,” he replied. “The second I see one of those scumbags, I won’t hold back.”

“And neither will I,” Sunny assured him. “Maybe it’s not the reason I’m out here, but the Legion never did me any favours. Neither did the NCR, for that matter,” she pointed out, only a slight edge in her tone as she gestured towards Boone’s beret. “But maybe all that's behind you now too. We let them walk away in Nipton because we didn’t have a choice. With you, it could be different.”

“We could fight back,” Brianna agreed, nodding despite herself. “Those feather-headed bastards are crawling over the desert like roaches and all we can do is keep our heads down and cross our fingers that they don’t impale us from a twenty-five-foot radius at  _ best _ . With you, it could be the kind of different where heads roll, if you like the thought of picking off as many of those sick bastards as you can before we make it anywhere near them.”

“This is only gonna be temporary. It won’t end well.”

“Well, ring-a-ding-ding, pal, welcome to the club. I’ll explain some details about things on the road, but long story short: I need to find a guy who shot me in the face. Hope you find some friendly faces when we head out to Boulder City tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s when they find Crawford’s body. If we’re heading out together, it’s gotta be now.”

“Hey, I get that you’re all trained up and everything,” Brianna replied, “but you’ve got a way bigger chance of tripping on a landmine at night. Or you know, falling into a pit of radscorpions. Or missing a headshot.”

“I can handle it,” he deadpanned. “Trust me.”

“But you’re wearing  _ sunglasses  _ at midnight.”

* * *

 

By the time they departed from their makeshift camp in one of the desert’s less radscorpion-infested patches of sand, all three of them were wearing sunglasses. Along with some illegally obtained travel supplies, they picked a pair up for Sunny on their way out of the Dino-Bite Gift Shop, acidic green with wonky white spikes around them that were supposed to resemble the dinosaur’s misshapen teeth. ED-E had to cope with Brianna donning his old heart-shaped pair but he didn’t seem to mind, beeping curiously at the surly beret-clad sniper while Brianna and Sunny sang off-key to the radio and watched Boulder City creep closer into view.

“I’m coming for you, Benny, you rat-ass son of a bitch.”

Boone, who’d already been filled in about Brianna’s vengeance-seeking escapade, only grunted. 

They were closer to the end with every weary step.

* * *

 

_ “We’re drinking, my friend, to the end of a brief episode. _

_ So make it one for my baby, and one more for the road.” _


End file.
